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 09 a continuation of `CoMPany payLoaD', WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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Things started to come together for `The Cowbulls', Denis at first backing Flick up, then taking on some of the solo parts.
Dropping Terry off at class, at 1pm, he proceeded onto the music studio. Time progressing, he blended in so, he forgot to watch the clock. As was customary, a bell sounded every two hours, which signified the duration of a two hour period of instruction ending. In the case of the music studio, it was easy to lose track and as for the sounding alarm, in the middle of a song, it could not be heard.
Thinking about it, Denis pulled on Flick's arm, asking, when he saw Flick didn't have a watch, "Anybody got the time?"
Flick yells out, "Dick! What time is it?"
He didn't have a watch neither, something which hardly anyone at Elemental Habit cared to have affixed to their wrist. "Ah-h," he searched the console, coming to a place on one of the surrounding computers, which made Dick salivate, because the screensaver was of some young ginger dude in a field, sucking off some dark-haired dude's thick cock, "3:18, to be precise?"
"Oh shit!" Denis calls out.
Denis was new to all this, the band new to Denis' schedule, but wise to his focusing up, Ontario asks, "What's up Denis-babe?"
"Oh my god, like I have a textiles class at three o'clock, well `had'!" Denis gathers himself up.
Hardly speaking a word throughout the whole session, fiddle player, `Oak', pipes up, "No doubt you'll be answering to Art Smith!"
In a little more than two hours, Flick had befriended Denis enough to like him, assuming a close friendship, naming himself protectorate, answering, "Want to shut the fuck up about that stuff, Oak?"
"I was only," Oak tried smoothing over.
"We `know' where you were going with it Oak, but..." Flick turns to the console, "you'll smooth it over with Art, right Dick?"
"Smooth it over? With Art?" He thinks it over. "Uh, yeah, I suppose I could."
More intent on making it to class, Denis didn't hang around, beating it out the door, as Flick signals the group they are calling it quits.
Tidying up the console and surrounding area, all Richard could think about is Art Smith and his system of justice. He remembers how he has beat the system on occasion taking the heat for each of the band members. Now, like completing the circle, having to be disciplined by Art Smith for Denis' infraction, well it just made his cock surge in his pants!
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With nothing much else to do, leaving his office in the hands of Yalin Tarazi, Nolan was totally confident of the central arm of Elemental Habitat's official business extension being handled by his executive secretary, as was true when Nolan assumed his father's position at the Harrellsson Building, appointing Yalin to the position.
Whistling as he walked the corridors, more than once he whistled at some hot guy, seen through one of the many glass partitions. More and more he was liking the transition from a concrete building to the lush greenery of the midwestern gardening facility. On his way to the kitchen, he passed through the main entrance to the cafeteria-style eatery. Hearing a loud `crack', followed by a man's howling, he questions, "What the fuck?" Approaching the kitchen, the same cry of a man's voice is heard.
Walking into the kitchen, it was at an opportune moment, Geoff Sahin commenting, "You took that well, boy!" Same time, his hand was rubbing over Laurent's red ass.
"I see everyone is working hard here?"
Having the pizza `shovel' in his hand, hardwood-handled implement, Hewy hides it behind himself.
"Doesn't work for you Hewy," Nolan leans in for a quick kiss, grabbing away from Hewy the hand-held board.
Geoff calls over, "He's right Hewy. You need to get some meat on those bones!"
"Ahem!" Laurent stands, waiting for an introduction.
Instead of a name, Geoff says in his forward manner of speaking, "Looks like we got ourselves another playmate, Nolan!"
Laurent had turned around, but neglected to pull up his pants, which had circled his ankles.
Nolan says of his straight shaft, a gooey strand of come leaking, "That's nice guys, but," he deviates from the scenario, "I hardly think this is the place for something like this?"
"Oh my god!" Laurent reacts. Allowing his mind to run free with the discipline scene, he says, "You're right," he pulls up his pants.
"Sorry, hun," Nolan turns to Hewy, "but if whoever eats pizza that has touched `that' board, well... what would they think of Laurent's ass being swatted by it?"
Geoff, whom it seemed he could get away with murder, replies, "Oh don't be such a nudge, Nolan!"
Nolan was definitely thinking about it, feeling Geoff's close up bod behind him, arms draped over his shoulders and feeling up his arms, saying what he was contemplating, "Yeah, okay, I'll think about it, but in the meantime can we focus on why we're all here?"
Whereas he turned his head to look over his shoulder, Hewy moved to the front flanking, creating a hot sandwich of Nolan.
Seeing the three friends react together, Laurent says, "How about a little mustard or mayo?"
Refraining from sweet treatment for now, Nolan left the kitchen, telling Hewy he couldn't wait till day duties were finished, so they could cuddle up. However, leaving the kitchen and in the hallway onto his next unaware destination, all Nolan could think about is Laurent. He wondered how it would feel to have his ass paddled, but the uncontrolled actions set forth by Laurent, his drooling cock, Nolan toyed with the reaction it might have for himself.
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It started as kissing, but slowly Demont's hand sunk down Heath's abs, utilizing the treasure trail to find his way to pay dirt. Already very hard, Demont ends the kiss, looking into Heath's eyes.
Feeling `hand' on his hard shaft, Heath says, "It's yours to do what you want, sir."
He hadn't asked for permission to speak, but Demont didn't give a flying fuck, replying, "You bet I will. How about these?" he went on Art Smith's rendering, slipping a hand around, cinching Heath's hairy globes.
"I'm up, no pun intended, for everything and anything you want to do to me," Heath says without reservation.
Calling Heath's bluff, Demont says, "How I brand this lovely chest of yours?" his hand which is not busy, courses over Heath's hairy chest.
With a straight face, unflinching from his accepting attitude, Heath replies, "If it will give you pleasure, sir."
Bringing both hands together and tweaking up Heath's nips, Demont counters, "But will it give `you' pleasure?"
"Not trying to be sarcastic, but can you see evidence of me being branded?"
Instead of a strict session of master and slave talk, the conversation mellows out, Demont changing course, "The gut punch I gave you... You recovered fast?"
Heath replies in a casual manner, "I love gut punching. It's one of my favorite things, next to some intense ball torture?"
Past times at `The Chasm', Demont has come across some hot cock and ball torture takers. In many respects, it has given himself practice, from beginning pain-taking to some more harsh treatment. Knowing what a submissive wants, he questions Heath's judgement, "Intense? How intense?" he slips his hand down, again strangling Heath's orbs.
They were staring in each others eyes, when Demont put on the pressure, squeezing both ball sacs in one of his big hands.
Tightening his grip and staring into his eyes, Demont witnesses how much Heath can take, even though Heath dropping his head back, like a hinge on his neck, bellowing out pangs of the beautiful experience Heath was having, "Oh yeah... oh fuckin' yeah."
%
Eamon and Johnny went there separate ways, upon exiting Art Smith's office, Nolan going his own way. The fourth individual, Brett Lansing, found himself with nothing to do. When this happened, rather than head back to the Verts or spend time at Atlantis, he took to walking. Sometimes walking would progress to jogging or a brisk run, one of the varied reasons for keeping up his stealth, nineteen year old physique.
If he wished, he could find escape from the habitat grounds, using the perimeter for his course and like any ranch hand, he would need to make arrangement ahead of time. It was frowned upon, Brett knowing, because he worked in the administration office, at the bottom of the totem pole, but within executive reach, security had to know. However, this particular day, Brett decides to traverse the grounds, running outdoors and brisk-walking the hallways.
Coming down the lane, outdoors, he happens upon the Bike'n'Hike, in the distance seeing a figure. He knew, at this hour, the Bike'n'Hikes were closed down, however it was common for those who were employed, to hang out. Such was the case here and he had just hoped with all his heart a certain individual was sitting outside the facility. With heartfelt emotion, because he had this big crush on this dude from the Verts, who roomed across the hall from him. With communal showering and jon facilities, sometimes Brett would catch his `secret lover' from the peephole in his door, going to the shower, waist towel-wrapped.
Closer, he confirmed why his heart was racing. There, on a boulder, left over from some ice age, was Rally, fixing a bike. He had an idea it might've been him, but without a shirt, the fleshy mirage looked like it could have been any other guy.
"Hi!" Brett said, bending slightly, placing hands on his knees and catching some wind.
"How's it going Brett?"
"You know me?" Brett replies.
Pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, Rally replies, "Sure. You're my room mate across the hall."
Some guys you got to know, some you didn't, other than a familiar face to go by.
Corroborating, without appearing to have checked him out, Brett replies, "I know you because you fix the bikes."
"Right," Rally replies, "like what I'm doing now."
Rally was no dumb bunny. Without feeling it, but sensing it, he could tell Brett's eyes have been up and down his sweaty bod a few times.
"You like to take care of bikes, huh?"
"At first," Rally replies, "I didn't know anything about them, but soon I figured it out. I'm kind of good with my hands."
Brett smiled, taking it in a different meaning of the phrase. He wondered if Rally was as good with his lips! Then again, on occasion of having the desire to be on his knees, servicing a hot top dude, he slips, "Yeah, me too."
Rally smiles, something unsaid going between them, then saying, "Okay... well, you want to help?"
"Sure. What can I do?"
"I need to take these inside and it would be cool if you could take the other bike so I don't have to make two trips, like I did to get them out here?"
"Sure. I can do anything to help you."
Rally sure liked that answer, especially since, being away from the dorms and in a different environment, talking to him, Brett seemed like a really cute guy!
They enter the building, do the stairs, Rally instructing Brett where to stash the bike.
It took Brett all of ten seconds to tell where he was stationed at the habitat. So, exiting there wasn't much left to say.
"So, what do you usually do on a Friday night?" Brett asks, even though he knows.
"Go back to the Verts and do some homework or I might take in a concert at the theater, when they have them. You?"
"Same. I mean I go back to the Verts and read or something," Brett replies.
Checking, Rally asks, "You don't go hang out with the guys at Atlantis?"
"Nah. Not really into that scene. I'm saving my credits for more important things."
Walking out of the Bike'n'Hike facility they took to walking towards the orchards, Brett taking the initiative to go in that direction. He stops, "Oh, were you headed back to the Verts, Rally?"
"Nah. I mean, I should. Most of the time I grab a shower at the Bike'n'Hike."
Concerned, Brett asks, "Oh, did I stop you?"
Answering truthfully, but with a smile, Rally says, "Yeah, but that's okay."
"Sorry." Then, because he's been out and exercising, "I should take a shower too, so we should leave some time to go back."
Thinking about it, Rally, which he can't recall why he was trusting himself on this, "If you don't want to go all the way back to the Verts, we can shower at the Bike'n'Hike?"
Brett figures he went this far and being he was tired of imagining a crush on a guy he thought was so hot, "Sounds okay to me, but I don't have a fresh change of clothing."
"Not a problem at all. Clothes get left behind by guys all the time. It's my job to make sure they get sent to the laundry and then hung up on the `claim' rack. I'm sure there's something in your size." Though, as Rally was saying it, he wasn't sure. From sweating, Brett's shirt was sticking to his frame and the sixpack hanging from it, he was sure was underneath, "There might be a shirt to fit."
Complimenting Rally, Brett says, "You take care of yourself."
He didn't have a sixpack, but Rally had a nice beefy, built bod, which took little maintenance, what with doing the stairs a half dozen times a day with a bike in hands. "I try."
They only got up to the orchard, Rally saying, "I think we should turn back."
"Right," Brett replies, "we don't want to be late for dinner."
"Have you?"
"No. Never did anything which would require me to pay a visit to Art Smith. You?"
"Nope, but I do wonder if all those stories are true."
"Stories? You're more informed than I am, Rally."
Knowing Brett's curiosity lingered, Rally sums up, "Solitary confinement, getting whipped, Art Smith's big cock!" Rally laughs with his intent of spelling out their disciplinarian stuffing a ranch hand's ass!
"Yeah, but there is one flaw to all this," Brett interjects.
"What's that?"
"What is to keep a guy from going to the head of the habitat, which is now Mr. Harrellsson?" Brett puts it to him.
Opening the door to the Bike'n'Hike, holding it like a gentleman for Brett, "I don't know how he does it, but as far as stabbing guys with his big cock, Art Smith seems to have a gift for knowing if a guy wants it' or wants to give it'!"
"Oh I get it," Brett says it like no big deal, "it gives a guy what he wants, which in my own opinion would never do for me, because I would want to control who I have sex with and not be forced into it."
Downstairs, turning the light on in the shower locker room, hundreds of tiny little LED's kick in, Rally saying, "I don't have far to go," he goes for the button on his shorts.
"There!" Brett says, whipping his tee shirt off, "Now we're even."
"Almost!" Rally shouts, stripping his pants down.
Joking, Brett tells him, "Nice jocks!" Which after saying, his bulge is visible.
"Would be tough to soap up between the legs with them on, huh?" Rally laughs as his thumbs dig into the waistband.
It was meant only for himself, but instead of thinking it, Brett says, "I've always wondered."
"Wondered what?" Rally tossed back at Brett, tossing his briefs on the bench.
"Nothing. It's not important."
"Well, I hope you don't mind, if I've got a question?" Rally says, a cocky smile on his lips.
"What's that?"
"It's sort of a confession." Rally, stripped to the buff and waiting for Brett's briefs to come off, walks over to him and says, "I don't go for all the gay drama and hype stuff, but I do confess to watching you out of the peephole of my dorm room and wondering what was under the towel around your waist. Any chance of getting a look?"
Brett's mouth hung open! It was the exact same thing he shooed away from telling about! "I..." Now that Rally has confessed, he didn't think of being embarrassed to tell, "I thought the same thing about you!"
Joking, Rally says, "I can go warm up the shower if you want to put a towel around your waist?"
"No thanks," Brett goes to it, thumbing down his briefs, "I've undressed around guys before?!"
"Hey!"
"What?" Brett asks, wondering what's wrong with his cock nest.
"I think we're about the same size!"
"Is that all?" Brett replies. "You want me to run back to the Verts and get my ruler? We can measure?"
"Nah," Rally holds his soft 8c on the palm of his hand, "besides, you can't measure when it's soft?"
"I could make it hard?" Brett says.
Like playing a game, Rally replies, "You said you were good with your hands?"
Feeling he was being given permission, Brett reaches over and without breaking eye contact, "I am. I suppose it all depends on how sensitive you are," taking Rally's cock in hand and like he's only done one other time before, begins the firming process.
"Oh-h-h-h that feels good!"
Because the latching on to Rally's cock drew them closer together, the nineteen and twenty year old sealed the distance between them, at first with a frivolous meeting of tongues. In fact, backing off, they giggled.
"I've always seen it done, but never..."
Rally cuts Brett off, "I know."
"You know?"
"I mean, I know it was good doing it with you now, but like you, I've never done it."
Holding hands, Brett informs, "I never said I never did it?"
"I know, but you were about to say it right?" Rally badgering, "I know, because I can read your mind!" He smiles!
"No you can't," Brett says, stressing the can't by pulling on Rally's hands, their chests slightly butting for a second or two. "Prove it!"
"Prove it? Like how?"
Brett wasn't thinking of anything but how beautiful Rally's hazel eyes were, behind the frame of glasses, "Okay. Go ahead."
Puzzled, Rally says, "Go ahead? Like with what?"
"I'm thinking something. You read my mind!"
"Oh, I get it. Okay, um..." Squinting his eyes, Rally serious-like stares into Brett's beautiful green eyes, replying an insignificant, "Um-m-m..."
"Nope! That's not it!"
Nicely reprimanding Brett, Rally states, "I didn't mean..."
"I know!" Brett giggles.
"So who's the mind-reader now?"
"Stop procrastinating!"
Rally smiles, knowing he better come up with something snappy, a result of not knowing what the hell is on Brett's mind. However, with the sweet look, he goes with, not what Brett may think, but his own, what he thinks about Brett at this very moment, "Right now you're thinking how sweet I am and if we don't get down and get busy kissing..." forgetting all this shit, "Do you want to get down and get busy?"
Sliding from hands, to Rally's thighs, his nineteen year old counterpart was showing what he might be interested in.
Responding, Rally says, "Like, oh my god!"
"What?" Brett says, backing off with hands and bod, a few inches between them.
"Nothing!" Rally panics, his free hands slapping against Brett's, plastering back onto his hips.
The sound of hands against flesh made a clapping sound, which for whatever reason made the two giggle, Brett saying, "You're so vocal!" of the clap.
"You know what?"
"What?" Brett questions, because not being a mind reader he just didn't know?
"I think we're doing way too much talking."
Maybe not mind readers, but as the two guessed, they allowed their minds push their bods together, finally lips melding.
"Oops!" Brett says, when his forehead pushes up against Rally's glasses.
"I know. I had a feeling someday these specs would get in the way!" Rally takes his glasses off.
"You should do what I did."
And because of this little confrontation, "I've got a confession to make."
"Those aren't real glasses? You only wear them because you look good in them?"
"No, they're real. I was going to say, I'm not really a mind reader. I lied."
Giggling, Brett says, "I suppose, since I thought you had fake glasses, that tells you something?"
"You're not a mind reader either?"
"No, but... well, I've really only known you for like a half hour..."
"And five minutes?" Rally replies.
Since a half hour and five minutes seemed like months to the two, Brett is not afraid Rally will run away, saying, "Shut up and listen?"
"I'm listening!" Rally lets go over his head, his lips turning up an innocent smile.
"What I was going to say before I was rudely interrupted..."
"Sorry," again that angelic smile!
"I was going to tell you to do what I did and get contacts?" Brett let it wallow.
Getting a little frustrated over all this talk, Rally's pheromonal senses kicking in, he acted contrary to saying, "Yeah, maybe."
At first, Brett's eyes became wide as saucers, but then shot down between them, upon feeling a hand on his cock.
Looking back up, Rally's grinning face was there to greet him, with the excuse, "I got tired of all the talk and no action!"
His first time with a guy, probably late blooming at age of nineteen, plenty of guys already having five or ten gay sex experiences, Brett slowly moves in on Rally's pubic territory. First, the back of his hand feels the head of Rally's cock, but in seconds, encompasses the slightly soft barrel, "You're a..." he gulps, "...a little hard?"
Smiling back at Brett, Rally says, "You're more than a little!"
Because it was `his' cock, with Rally's hand softly stroking it, Brett could only reply, "I know. Feels good too."
"C'mon."
In the locker room, all tile, there was really no place for comfortable sex. Taking Brett's cock, rather than hand, since it was already engaged, Rally toys, "Come on... come on..." he treats Brett like a puppy dog.
"This is like so-o weird!" Brett replies, but thinks it's so erotic, having Rally pull him along, out of the locker room and down the hallway. He does dummy up long enough to ask, "Um, like there's no security cameras, are there?"
Rally laughs, because at this sexually-streaming moment he really doesn't care, "If there are, I hope whatever security dude is on the other end is having `his' fun!"
Turning a handle and kicking in a door, they happen upon a very small room.
"Dutch said if I kept the place in order," since supplies abounded, "I could have a small cot in here."
"Cot?" Brett question, not seeing anything which to lay down on and have sex.
"Sorry," Rally detaches, "I have to let go."
He didn't mind, but the soft massage Rally was giving him, was instantly missed. Better than leave the cool air breeze over it, Brett's hand takes up the slack.
As Rally unbends the folded up cot, he warns, "Better not come!"
"You neither!"
Eyes were on each others' lower half. Rally knew, just as much as Brett, he was hard, even with half the amount of touching, or less!
"There!" Rally says, cot unfolded, which also housed a small, thin pad. "Good enough for a little fun, but not good for heavy fucking!" He laughs.
"Why?" Brett questions with sincerity, "Have you done some heavy fucking on it?"
"No! I was just judging on how weak these legs are, presupposing, if two guys were making out and if it led to some heavy fucking... by the way..."
Back to the mind reading?
Brett shoots back, "I'm versatile, but if you... I-I-I..."
"Me too, but I mean, I'm versatile."
Said like Rally was hiding something, Brett asks, "But what else?"
Knowing Brett knew he was trying to get around it, Rally says, "I really never did it before, but I'd like to try fucking, but if it's not you, it could be some other guy."
Since Brett was really into Rally right now, he didn't want Rally to even entertain the thought, casually reacting, "No. You can do me."
For up until they came into the storage room, aka napping room, the two were dancing around on each others' feelings. With things turning to serious matters, they drifted closer, Brett doing the leading, sitting down on the cot, his hand on Rally's hand, pulling with encouragement.
At first Rally smiled, a huge underestimation of exactly how he felt at the moment. Even without cock-stimulation, he was pulsing with desire.
Sitting right down on Brett's thighs, Brett says, "How are you going to fuck me from here, when my cock is almost up you?"
"Ha-ha," Rally replies, "With your cock," he grabs hold of Brett's stiff shaft, "poking me in the thigh?"
Brett didn't answer. By now it wasn't a cat and mouse game of matching whits, but more serious matters, "Oh-h-h-h that feels like so-o, so-o nice!" He drops his head back. He didn't think of anything, feeling Rally's hand on his smooth chest, pushing him back, into the thin mattress.
With such desire, Rally wanted what he had witnesses men doing in porn videos. By heart, he knew how it went, the top dude pushing his bottom down onto the bed. Climbing around on top of him, like an ant at a picnic, seeking out his bounty. In no time, commanding the scenario, he had Brett flat out on the bed, squatting over his bed-partner's face, cock and balls dangling in Brett's face. Without reservation, even though the two had personally known each other for roughly an hour and ten minutes, Rally's shoulders sank down and opening wide, devoured Brett's hard shaft, right up to the tonsils, that is if there were tonsils. Rally had his tonsils out when he was seven years old!
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"Oh boy," Nolan said facetiously. Lost in the maze of hallways, he wasn't at all phased by not being able to follow the map handed to him by Greg Smith, especially when he faced the glass facade of Atlantis'. Oh my!' he thought to himself, walking in, being the only in street clothes. There was plenty of eyecandy, but he chose not to make it obvious, a terrible, terrible thing to try and do, walking between the waves of hot guys. Finally getting to the bar, he comments to the blond bartender, "Nice place!"
Tom Houten, who's job it was to do almost anything needing done, returns with a stack of towels, saying, "Could be nicer?"
Nolan, replies, to Thor, "What did he mean by that?"
Thor's eyes were all over Nolan, but figured there could be more to look at, other than the handsome face and sandy blond hair. Playing it cool, "Oh don't mind Tommy. However, what he was really trying to say is, you don't need to be so formal about wearing clothes here at Atlantis?"
"Obviously," Nolan replies, gazing around and curious, tries taking a stab at glancing behind the bar, as he stood by the side of it. Snagged by Thor, he says, "Just checking," then smiled.
"If you feel intimidated about taking your clothes off here, you can use one of the cabanas?"
Nolan replies, "They've thought of everything, have they?" Immediately he takes the front of his tan polo shirt, part of the uniform for his stature at Elemental Habitat and flutters it against his chest.
"Let me give you a tip... uh, I don't believe we've met?"
It could have been a pickup line under any other circumstances, guy to guy in a bar, but being he was the new head honcho, Nolan grabs Thor's hand and in shaking, "Nolan Harrellsson."
"Oh yes," Thor says, squeezing gently as if massaging a dude's balls, "the main man now at the habitat."
Like himself, dirty blond, Nolan pay attention to the swimmer's build and other particulars, but being they were talking about the habitat and not physical features, he says, "That's right. I only hope I live up to the same job Greg Smith has been doing all these years."
"You're joking, right?"
"Joking? No. Why? Should I be?" Nolan replies.
Damn it was tough trying to stay on course, while Thor talked down Greg Smith. Not only did Thor explain, but used gestures and in doing so, gave Nolan the opportunity to view that wide chest, the bits of blond hair circling each nip, which made gave him thirst to taste. He might have gave in, if the rest of Thor was hidden by the bar. Although, he took in every word Thor was saying, "And that's why I make my comment about Greg Smith."
"Hmm, it's a shame. Unlike Greg Smith though, I hope to do my job to the fullest."
Thor wasn't finished, saying, "Then, and this is only between you and me and I hope it goes no further?"
"You're secrets are safe with me!" Nolan replies, trying to vent his sweaty shirt, wet at the pits and mid chest.
"The system of punishment, with Art Smith at helm is a grotesque imitation of what the directors of the habitat had wished it to be."
Wise, Nolan says, "I've had my first taste of Art Smith's justice and I'm not so sure I'm all for it."
"Most of the time he gets away with it, because fortunately for Smith, he has a sense of smelling out who can get into it and those which don't show an interest."
"You seem to know a lot about Art Smith?"
"Yes, well when I first came here, I was under the impression Art Smith being a righteous man of the law. It's only after I gave two ranch hands demerits I found out what his `real' justice entailed."
"Oh? Like how did that go?" Nolan's mind began taking notes. Same time, he was fussing so much about his shirt, he pulled at the tails of it to remove it over his head. It got stuck!
"Need a hand?"
It wasn't Thor's hands, though he wished he were on the other side of the counter to be of help!
"You want me to take care of this for you?" the dude says to Nolan.
"Take care of it?" Nolan replies, swiveling around on his seat to face the dude, who by now was holding the shirt.
Folding it up, soon the dude's bod was fully visible, replying, "I can have it laundered and back to you, if you tell me where you're staying?" He was at lunch, was at the introductions of the new director of Elemental Habitat, but far from Nolan's table, he couldn't really make out the face. However, his buddies he sunned with on the faux beach of Atlantis, clued him in. The `executive shirt' confirmed it, when he saw it and it wasn't by any slim chance he was passing by.
"Anything else?" Nolan asks.
Thor butts in, "He's on to you Edison!"
Suspicious, Nolan was a little, but more entranced by the nice, hairy bod, right on down to the hot cock hanging over and nice set of hairy balls, flanked by thighs of, what else, `hair'! "What's your game?"
"Game? No game. I work in laundry, you had a tough time getting your shirt off, I help and I bring it back to you nice and clean!" He flaunts the most beautiful set of teeth, surrounded by a face which show a shadow of a beard and stache.
Again Thor badgers, "And before I give you two demerits for not telling the truth, Edison?"
"No, no, no... I tell! I know Greg Smith is leaving and I wonder if I can apply for job of his valet?"
"Valet?" Nolan first confronted him with.
Thor jumps in with the specs, "Yeah, with Greg Smith out, out goes all his personal staff. Policy. So you better start choosing your new staff."
Ok, that makes sense,' Nolan thinks it over, the reason Yalin has been appointed his executive secretary. However, the matter of valet?' Again his eyes, without being too flashy, check out from chest, up, and address Edison's gleaming smile, "How about you do up the shirt and drop it off at suite number one in the Arboretum?"
"I have the job?"
Nolan continues, "And then I will decide, by the look of the shirt, if you have the job or not?"
It was comical, Edison saying, "I'm going to get dressed and get on this shirt right away!"
Dashing away, Nolan turns to Thor and asks, "You would give him two demerits?"
"Nah. What'll you have to drink?"
"Fuzzy navel?" Nolan replies with a grin.
Joking, Thor returns, "With a twist of treasure trail?"
"You got one?" Nolan stands on the iron wrung of his stool to peer over the bar.
"Really Mr. Harrellsson? You trying to start a riot?"
"Sorry," Nolan sits back down. Drifting from the subject of Thor's hot treasure trail, leading to a nice-sized `treasure', Nolan asks, "So, what do you know about Edison?"
Running down the list as Thor makes up the Fuzzy Navel, "Edison Lima, twenty-six years old, born in some tiny hamlet in Mexico, worked with a drug cartel until meeting up US law enforcement. Turned to becoming a double agent, did his stint until his brother found out he was working for the government, at which time Edison is very lucky to have been pulled out."
"His brother?"
"Right," Thor serves up the Fuzzy Navel, "they didn't exactly see eye to eye and get along. For one thing, Edison's brother knew he was gay and that was the first strike against him."
Cutting it short, Nolan says, "Good thing he's here' and not there!'"
"One of the reasons Edison is outgoing and aiming to please. He attends classes at the college, but is not very bright at his studies. He claims he better serves doing domestic work."
"Nothing wrong with that," Nolan replies to Thor, tasting his drink and shouting, "Wow!"
"Too strong?"
"Not at all, Thor. This has got to be the best tasting Fuzzy Navel I've ever had!"
Thor giggles, saying, "Must be the special ingredient."
Nolan stands.
Wise to what he wants to look at, Thor backs his stomach away from the bar, saying, "It's still there," meaning his treasure trail!
"Just checking," Nolan sits.
"Why don't you see about some comp time and head over to the cabana and I'll have a fresh drink brought over?"
With half of a Fuzzy Navel down, Nolan was liking the idea. After all, he had some free time before the dinner bell and with Hewy slaving in the kitchen, "I think I'll take you up on that!"
It seemed like a dude was at Thor's beck and call, with a snap of a finger, conjuring up some hot, naked guy, "Serkan, would you mind showing Mr. Harrellsson to the cabana?"
Serkan?' Nolan switched his head to the left, then right, capturing the image. Dark brown hair, six-foot build, smooth, except for matching hair on his bod, resembling a T', across the pecs, then down the middle, all coming to a moderate endowment.
In a deep voice, Serkan replies, "No problem, Mr. Thor. Whatever you want. You want to come with me, Mr. Harrodsin?"
"Harrellsson, you dodo!" Thor corrects him.
"Nolan will be fine," Nolan informs the lad.
"Are you sure Nolan is cool?" Serkan asks, "because Mr. Smith, he have us call him Mr. Smith!"
More than physically adorable, Serkan was' adorable, in Nolan's opinion, him responding, "Nolan is cool,' Serkan," he gets up off his tush.
By the time he got to the cabana, Nolan had thought he would have the dope on Serkan, but almost every question deadended at, "I am sorry. That is classify and I cannot say," Serkin answers for the nineteenth time! Ushering Nolan inside, he deviates from the private sector of interrogation, "This door. It is not cotton. It is made of bamboo."
"I was wondering," Nolan really wasn't wondering, but wondered what would transpire, because Serkan came inside the cabana with him, closing them both inside the fabric door.
"I can tell you one thing not classify. I formally work for rich man. I help him in every way. I can help you, if you want me to help you?"
Nolan was wondering if Serkan meant, with the wardrobe and rather than have his thoughts malfunction, left it as, "Uh, sure."
"I know this seem like something sexy," Erkan starts with the belt buckle, "but I tell you it the way I take clothes off my master."
"Master? You were a slave?"
"I am sorry. I..."
"I know," Nolan butts in as the belt is stripped from his pants loops, "it's classified?"
"Yes and I hope you do not think I get sexy?"
"Of course not," Nolan did say, but was thinking something else. Confirming, "Now why would I think something like that?" he stare in Serkan's eyes.
Hands busy, Serkan smiled back, saying, "I am very good if you want me to take care of this now?" he held Nolan's junk through the lining of his briefs.
Prying Serkan's hand off, like an octopus stuck to its prey, "Uh, I think not, but thanks just the same."
"Okie-dokie! Then I only help you get clothes off."
There was no place to lean, Nolan standing in the middle of the cabana, Serkan at his feet, so Serkan suggests, patting himself on the shoulder, "You lean here on my shoulder."
He did and watching Serkan remove a sneaker, take the raveled up leg of his pants off, then the other, Nolan was happy to have a steady place to hold on.
Standing, Serkan says, "Now for this?"
It was like asking Nolan permission to remove his briefs, him saying, "I think I can handle this part!" He wasn't sure if it was the right thing, being he now acted up like he was doing a striptease for Serkan, though Nolan made no effort to make it a showy peeling of his briefs.
"Are you sure..."
Nolan was sure he didn't want a blowjob, even though at this particular horny moment it would have felt very nice.
"Okie-dokie," Serkan snaps back quickly, "then we go for a swim."
Without the nerves of stripping down, Nolan focused more on Serkan, leaving the cabana, remarking to his inner mind, What a cute little ass!' Though, it was short-lived when he became the spectacle of all eyes!
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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.