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 13 a continuation of `CoMPany payLoaD', WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"Uh, Ontario... you like, wanna not eat like a pig? We like, got company?"
Denis could only laugh at Flick's comment made on his behalf, the company', guest' at the table where the band always assembled for meals.
On occasion, Oak would spin off to another friend's table, but one could never miss the `Cowbull' collective, Jeremie, Seanie, Provo, Flick and Ontario eating together, sometimes getting rowdy and commandeering a security man's time to break up the noisy musicians.
This evening, Oak sat in with the crowd, for a few reasons, one of them being he thought Denis a hot guy and another, a thirst for anything which revealed his history. Not that Oak was a nosy person, but he did have an interest in the antiquity of one's past. However, this was not the case, regarding his comment to Ontario.
"Oh really, Oak?" Ontario drew his attention away from Denis and almost directly across from him, "What's up with you anyway, Oak?"
Calmly, Oak replies, "Nothing `up' with me," and a comeback, "what's up with you, Phillippe?"
There might have been some light chatter at the table, but now all remained silent, because they all knew' Ontario hated the name Phillippe', even though he owned it!
An unusual silence overwhelmed the table, waiting it out, seeing how Ontario was going to handle this.
"You know, Patrick'," Ontario trying to get even, though Oak didn't mind being called his real name, "ever since you been seeing that Woodchuck' dude...”
Patrick speaks up, "It's not Woodchuck', Phillippe, it's Wotjek' and he's got first name, `Darryl'?"
Perhaps this place, the habitat, was giving Denis more experience of being outspoken, busting out, "Besides, it doesn't matter `whom' you're dating, I think it's Oak's business who he is seeing. Besides, Ontario, everybody has a right to their own opinions, but as I see it, Oak was just goofing on you about being a pig. I mean, would it have mattered if it was me calling you it?"
"Sounds logical to me," Flick adds, his hand warming Denis, improving on his back circulation.
They all started back eating and talking, Ontario getting up and in a huff, "Sounds more like a conspiracy." To the other band members, "What about you, Provo? Jeremie? Seanie? You all against me now?" only because they were being silent.
He never got his answer, Ontario picking up his tray of leftovers, stepping lively over to the door, ditching the tray and its contents into a trash bin and marching off towards the exit.
"Oh shit!" Flick alerted his table.
None were oblivious to a security guard taking off after Ontario. They knew his offense, not separating the items on his tray, leftover food in the bin headed for composting, items for recycling, then the tray itself into the `wash' bin. They weren't there, but keenly paying attention, only imagining what could be happening.
As for Ontario, he tried to get away, made it to the hallway, when an echoing bark seemed to penetrate the emptiness of the hallway, "Hey! I'm talking to you!"
It was apparent to Ontario, not to stop would mean getting into deeper shit. He knew what he did back there, his tray going into the trash, not giving a shit.
Walking right up to his back, "Want to start with a name?"
If the voice had been softer, Ontario could almost let it pass as a pickup, but also coupling it with the probability, one of the security dudes saw him trash his tray and contents, taking a deep breath in an attempt to cut some slack on his nasty attitude, "It’s Ontario. Philip Ontario. Got..." and when he lay eyes on the guard, whom he knew had to be the same height, because his lips were there at his ears, "it?"
"I got it."
Looking down, then up at the guard's face, he asks, "Where's your demerit pad?"
"In my pants pocket. It's going to stay there, unless you want to take it out for me?"
There wasn't any emotion behind it, except a different approach than first yelling for Ontario to stop dead in tracks.
Replying, Ontario rationalizes, "If I do, you're going to write me up. Trust me, I'm not all conducive to Art Smith's security practices."
He reports, “Art Smith is no longer our security manager. A new man is in his place."
Another thing baffled Ontario. He knew all the security guards assigned to the mess hall, saying, "How come I never saw you monitoring the meals before?"
He didn't have to answer to Ontario's cross examination, but there was a reason he didn't have his pad out in the first place, "Because I normally work the outside perimeter and I'm doing a guy a favor trading places with him so he can spend his anniversary night with his boyfriend."
Sarcastically, Ontario says, "Oh isn't that sweet."
Still cool, the guard draws off his colleagues excuse from duty, "How about you, Philip? Ever have a boyfriend."
Knowing where this was going, this security dude hitting on him, Philip replies, "Only if he likes to get his ass fucked!"
Still, holding up the cool, calm facade, he retorts, "Really? Hmm... I happen to like to get my ass fucked. Maybe we can become boyfriends. What do you think?"
There were a few reasons, other than demerits wavering over his head, which kept Philip from hightailing it out of there and hustling it over to Atlantis to start on an evening of running up his debit account in the name of beer'. When he made the initial about-face, he was immediately taken by the tanned face, black hair, very stylishly coiffed and the scruffy beard contrasting it. The more he chatted, the more he lost his edge, first because he wasn't going to be written up and now, the switch to the subject of fucking'.
"Boyfriends? Um, like doesn't it... or isn't it supposed to be more than fucking around? Besides, I don't even know your name."
"Rashid," he says, adding, "but I bet there's plenty of guys you have fucked and you didn't even bother to get their names?"
Philip, aghast, not from fear, but because the dude has just told it like it is, he doesn't show it, but frankly comes out with, "Well that's fuckin' fresh!"
A little laughter builds up in Rashid, making him laugh out loud, but then in an instant stifles himself.
"What's so funny?" Philip didn't admit it, but the laughter lifted his spirits a little.
"Nothing," Rashid replies. "Hey, would you happen to be into whipping a guy's ass?"
First time since he's entered the hallway, Philip's balls start to tingle, "Sure, with my cock?"
"I suppose we could work up to that?"
"Wait a minute. Hold it right there," Philip holds up hand like a stop sign, "first it's this boyfriend' shit, then ass-fucking stuff, now it's we can work up to... to what?"
"A cliffhanger!"
"A fuckin' what?"
Since he didn't get his own way, having Philip extract the demerit pad from his pocket, which would have really' given Rashid a thrill, a foreign hand possibly grazing his thigh. He took it out on his own accord, writing the numbers, 234', informing, "Here's my buzz number. Call me at eight o'clock."
"Cool. In case though, mine is 42.."
Rashid cuts him off, "I know your buzz number."
"You do, do you?"
"I know everything about, from your stats," Rashid pauses, eyeing up Ontario's crotch, then continuing, "right on down to how you came to be here at the habitat."
A bit perturbed, but more against showing animosity, because in reality Ontario was quite taken in by Rashid's hot looks, along with the strong possibility of taking on his hot ass, "So much for the privacy act!"
With a hand at trying to turn this scenario around, instead of being boastful, Rashid backs off some, "You're not going to report me for illegally accessing your information, are you?"
At first, Philip thought maybe Rashid was trying to save his own ass, but then it occurs to him, there's a reason why he was chased down, without intent of publicly serving him with a demerit slip, "What would they do back in old Iran? 40 lashes, huh? 50? 100 lashes?" Philip delivered with a tad of humor.
"Sorry sir," the `sir' slipping out, "but my family is originally from Pakistan, but if you require punishing me for my insubordination, I welcome it, to make it right between you and me!"
This was turning a bit weird for Philip, but in way, he had no one to blame by himself, allowing Rashid to open up and reveal things.
"Punishment, huh?" Philip's brain switched from thinking about a belt across Rashid's ass, though at first it sounded entertaining, but returned his original thoughts to sending his 8c on a long journey through Rashid's tunnel. Also, thoughts ran through his mind on how Rashid had turned from a brazen security officer, to a meek one in relatively a period of ten minutes.
"Whatever you make it to be. Pain is penitence."
Philip mouthed it out, `Pain... is... penitence?' then responds, "Yeah, okay. Whateva." Being he felt he held the upper hand, "Instead of me buzzing you at eight, why don't I drop by your quarters at seven?"
"Because I am off duty at eight?" Rashid looks to Philip for retort.
"Oh. Good reason. Okay, then eight it is."
"Another thing?" Rashid asks with meek intent.
"Another disappointment, Rashid?" Philip guessed the appropriate remark, punching it up with some attitude.
"I share a room with another security man. I thought maybe you have place?"
"Uh, like didn't your computer tell you Rashid, that I room with the band?"
"Oh. Yes," Rashid replies, "it did." Though, having some hidden motives, Rashid would not mind if the band took turns at using him for whatever purposes served `them' getting off, whether it involved sex or other fun stuff.
"So?" Philip questions.
In his back pocket, Rashid has one last option, "We could always use the holding area Art Smith used for disciplining?"
"As long as they have something to throw your ass over!" Philip laughed. Though, he was saying it, but would like to use all assets available to him to get Rashid nice and hard.
"Then I meet you there at eight?"
Confirming, Philip says, "Sure. You bring the beer!"
"I will bring it," he didn't hesitate telling Philip.
Rashid having had to get back on duty, walked back to the mess hall, feeling elated.
In the opposite direction, he meets Denis and the band, them having left the north side of the mess hall, coming towards Philip. Back in the cafeteria, they had decided life was too short to mad at anyone, especially Ontario, who has always been good-natured.
Each of their arms over Ontario's shoulders, Seanie on his left, Jeremie on the right, the others either side, Flick says, "Yeah, we're sorry we got off on you Ontario."
Denis play it cool and allowed the others to smooth things over, Provo telling him, "Yeah and to make it up to you Ontario, tonight `Atlantis' is on us."
Not feeling inhibited, Denis speaks out, "Yeah and you don't need to run up any debits. It's on us!"
As much as Ontario always liked partying it up at Atlantis, partnering up with whatever guy felt like doing what, it stuck in his mind `Rashid', telling them, "Sorry, but I've got a date!"
They all knew who!
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It was a really beautiful evening, even inside the glass enclosure of Elemental Habitat. However, on special evenings where the weather made guys yearn to be out in the open air, the football field was prepped with lighting, to allow the close contact sport.
"Damn it's nice out!" Nolan threw open his arms, embracing green and blue everywhere, once he and Hewy set their feet outdoors on the grass.
It didn't keep their full focus of attention, guys streaming past them, a football being tossed.
Hewy says, looking to his left and right, "I like the uniforms!"
"It `would' be a way to get more to attend the games!" Nolan giggles as he replies, his eyes focusing up and down, at either the green or blue speedos, with bare chests as the top of the football uniforms.
"Hi! Look what I have!"
By now Nolan `knew that voice', replying to the squeaky sound, "I know that voice!"
So did Hewy, him saying, "If it isn't my little slaveboy!"
"I like that! You call me that anytime!"
Hewy didn't get around to mentioning the event occuring during lockdown at Atlantis.
Nolan says of it, "I have a feeling there's something between you two, I'm missing?" and not sure, "Is there a reason for the blanket, Serkan?"
"For us to sit on and then I run back inside and get us drinks. Whatever you want I get for you," Serkan hurriedly replies.
Groping himself, Hewy says, "I know what I might want!"
Like he was calling Serkan's bluff, "You want it, I give it. I lay in grass with my face on you. Nobody know I give you hot blowjob. You want it, I give it!" Looking ahead, the crowd assembling for the football game, "I better go get good place on grass!"
Nolan and Hewy with their peace once again, Nolan states, "Can't say I'm not jealous. You might have a fight on your hands, Hewy!"
Knowing over `what', Hewy says, "There's plenty there for two!"
"Good. I'll take your cock and Serkan can have your balls!"
As it went, security was around and if it were allowed, the outdoor football game would have become one big orgy. Not even a friendly touching of another man's genitals was tolerated, which often drew a security man's baton to tap a hand, a reminder to keep it out of the dude's crotch he was sitting next to. Often too, a security guard would walk up behind a couple and untangle a hand attached to an ass cheek, or down the back of the pants?
Even though there were tabus, some things were permissible, kissing, hugging, a dude up on another dude's shoulders, horseplay, not in the fucking sense, but things usually associated with the opposing team securing a touchdown.
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Unintentionally, Denis hanging out with Flick and the Cowbulls from the end of rehearsal, through the dinner hour and now at Atlantis, he lost track, remembering he had a boyfriend!
On the other hand, Terry knew he should have been back at the room he shared with his boyfried, but was having too much of a sensually good time with his Textiles professor.
"Like the shower?" Terry's twenty-eight year old professor asks, having pinned him down on the bed and after asking, rekindles efforts with tantalizing Terry's right nip with his mouth.
"Ooh-oh yeah," Terry replies, biting his own lip and sighing.
Gregg stops momentarily, licking the spit off his lip and looking up at Terry's chin, "So, how do you like the comforts of a garden cottage, as opposed to the shared facilities of the Verts?"
Knowing what Gregg was intentionally referring to, Terry has a sudden relapse back to reality, "I have a boyfriend, Gregg?" With the realization that this wasn't a sexual fantasy type of dream, more real, Terry sits up and with Gregg's knees on the bed, it becomes easy to slide himself up towards the top of the bed.
His arms outstretched to the opposing walls of the room, Gregg says, "In case you haven't noticed, it's a king-sized bed. Big enough for three?"
"No. I don't think Denis will go for that."
"Good!" Gregg exclaims, getting comfortable by ejecting his bod forwards, his jackknifed knees propelling him towards Terry, his bod pinning the twenty-one year old beautician under him. "Because I'm really getting to liking you, Terry."
Terry had his thoughts, but also could not deny his nads were ruling in favor of surrender, allowing Gregg to have his sweet way with him. His memory of Denis began to fade, what with Gregg kissing him sweetly on the cheek, working his way around to his mouth. Then it began all over again, Gregg working his lips down his brown-haired chest. Only difference between then and now, instead of a stop off at his nips for some tongue and teeth teasing, Gregg's tongue licked a wet path right down the embedded stripe of this stomach, made a quick dip in the center of his bellyhole swirl and with hands kneading his pecs, Gregg's mouth made Terry's cock all nice and warm!
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Geoff more or less stood around, watching the kitchen helpers do the cleaning up. With the clatter of trays, flatware and pots and pans, in order to converse, they found a need to stand so close together, Laurent's left arm wove in and out and behind Geoff's back, Geoff's right armpit over Laurent's shoulder almost.
"I said, it might be fun getting together with your boyfriend sometime!" Geoff had to forcefully elevate the tone of his voice.
"Sure!" Laurent said with excitement. "I'll have a talk with James. I'm sure he would welcome an experienced top!"
With things dying down, as the kitchen help dwindled, each facet of the set duties terminating, so did the commotion, whereas only one dude remained.
Geoff turns to Laurent's ear, saying in a whisper, "I think we've got a stalker!"
Only the midsection of his bod was visible and even that, a towel drying off a large pot, with pots hanging from the ceiling and counter sealing off the beltline and below, only the movement of the towel gave away the presence of the lingering worker.
"Hmm, I wonder which one of us," Laurent returned to Geoff.
To settle matters, Geoff says, "I saw him first!"
"Well!" Laurent says in a huffy manner, "I guess that's my cue!"
He starts to walk away, Geoff calling him back and tugging on his arm, "Hey?"
"What?" Laurent replies, not able to fathom what on earth the hesitation is for.
"No goodbye?" Geoff replies affectionately.
Along with a tap of lips to lips, Geoff's hand finds a place to tweak through Laurent's white chef's jacket, tips of fingers caressing the two little pointy indentations.
"Mm-m!" Laurent says, both hands to nips, giving his balls some palpitations, but when Geoff stops the tweaking-up, "Oh-h-h," he whimpers!
With Laurent gone, Geoff Sahin folds his arms across his middle, ass against the edge of the counter, legs crossed. For all of two minutes he observes. Already recollecting his thought on the dude standing there in the same pose as when he and Laurent chatted, Geoff finally breakins silence, calling out, "I think the pot's dry, unless you are trying to wear it out?" He immediately relaxes his two hands, cupped around his lips, which has provided the facsimile of a megaphone.
Reaching up to hang the pot on an empty rack hook, Geoff smiles, the shirt hiking up, the dude asking, "Who me?" Geoff's smile folds back into his face, when the dude scurries around the counter, "You talking to me?"
Walking over to him, Geoff had an inquisitive look on his face, makes the assumption, "You're not part of the kitchen crew?"
"Right. I work the dining hall, but I thought maybe they could use an extra hand in here."
Geoff was glad the dude came out from behind the counter and hanging pots. Sure, the shirt lift, a hint of what else lay under the shirt, the stripe over the dude's navel, dim light making it look deeper and darker than it probably is, plus the introduction to what lay south of his bellyhole, it was enough to get Geoff's tastebuds' salivating. Seeing the whole picture' though, there was much, much, much more than a patch of tan skin and brown bod hair, "Very kind of you to extend yourself." Because Geoff was feeling it, "There wouldn't happen to be any other reason or `reasons' why you have decided to help out, knowing you would not be receiving additional credits?"
Standing there in the dude's breathing space, he knew he had been snagged and rather dwell on `why' he was there, says, "You look awesome standing there."
He knew it was a pickup line, Geoff remaining stationary, asking, "What's your name boy?"
They both stood there, rigid in appearance, the boy' cracking a wee smile as he replies, "Martyn, sir'."
"I suppose we both know why you've decided, out of the kindness of your heart, to give the kitchen crew a hand. Now, why don't we discuss exactly why' you're here, Martyn'?"
The twenty-four year old blushed, smiles, then says, "I know I shouldn't be listening in on other people's business, but I overheard you talking with Laurent, earlier, and..." After pausing, getting up enough gumption to say, "And I thought maybe you and me might have something in common?"
Obviously the case, `something in common', as Martyn has said, Geoff, seasoned in conversation such as this, "Depends on what can you get into?"
"I feel so invigorated having a strap or flogger played over my back, but if can get into it, you can use it anywhere. How about you?"
Geoff smiles and not supplying the answer just yet, "What else?"
Accepting it, already giving in to Geoff's will, Martyn decides to rattle through his whole list of `likes', "Watersports, cock'n'ball torture, nip play, ass play, electro and if you can get into it, I have a sensitive navel, but so far haven't found anybody who knew anything about doing anything to it. Can you get into playing with a guy's navel?"
By now, Geoff's balls were speaking for him, plus the fact Martyn's whole appearance. So much so, he didn't hesitate, for fear of this hottie getting away from him, "I really can't give you an answer, without seeing what I have to work with?"
Of course, the slight spacing of Martyn's shirt, gave Geoff a small peek, but up close, Martyn tugging at the edge of his shirt, pulling it up to the pecline, gave Geoff more indication.
"Nice start!" Geoff hinted to a wanting, his hand clutching Martyn's hand, raising the shirt up to where two pink dots sat on Martyn's chest, silhouetted against more brown fur.
Feeding each other substance, it was natural to think they have already struck a hookup, Martyn providing the line, "I live in the Verts. You got a more secluded place? I mean, I'm not trying to push myself off on you or anything, but..."
His candidate already held some of the superlatives Geoff already sought out in a man, same interests, but also good looking, plus, like himself, substantial carpet of fur and wanting more info, "How old are you?"
"Twenty-four," and knowing Geoff wanted stats, "five feet, ten inches tall, build? I workout, but I haven't reached the sixpack status yet," he giggles, "I think I'm kind of nice in the crotch area, what else?"
Not wanting to get too specific, Geoff hesitated on size, cock, balls and ass circumference and too, if things went beyond them standing there in the kitchen in conversation, he was sure to find out regards to `pain tolerance', but there was more eating away at Geoff's curiosity and turning from details about Martyn's bod, "And how good a kisser are you?"
With a half-cracked smile, Martyn replies, "If you want a demonstration, I'm all up for it?"
In a master/slave relationship, the slave would wait for approval, but they weren't to that status, Martyn putting aside roles, closing in on Geoff, placing both hands on Geoff's shoulders as he stare in his eyes.
A prelude to the kiss, Geoff says, "Romantic, too. I like that!"
What he liked more though is Martyn's kiss, sending warmth through his bod and without reservation or a feeling of being forced, the two melded as one, bods cementing, palms of hands running the length of backs and tasting each other's lips and a frilly effect, electric, as their crotches touched!
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"Don't get too drunk!" David Schlesinger says, lifting the specially designed, environmentally friendly mug of beer out of Dillon's hand.
David, after one beer, he wanted to be alert as possible for after the their friendly, after-Atlantis mating, whatever it entailed.
"Right," his twenty-seven year old date replies, "don't want to make the mistake of hurting you too much!" Dillon laughs, knowing David likes pain' and from conversation, can take a lot'.
With no sweat off David's brow, he replies, "Hasn't happened yet!"
Dillon hints about how much he likes playing the bdsm-game, "I'm getting hard."
"Where have you been?" David jokes back, "I was there a long time ago!" gettin' hard!
"Cool! You know why?"
Both barechested, Dillon's shoulder squashed into David's on account of the crowd, "Why?" David asks, hoping for a steamy reply.
Not disappointed, perhaps for both, "Because I've already thought making a guy hard, then tying a noose just under the flange of his head and `hanging him'!"
"Really?" David replies, just as dramatically. What Dillon didn't know, his balls were racing with yearning!
"Yep," the Asian says, adding, "I can't wait to find out what else you can take!"
All up for the pain and pleasure stuff, David was like any other man, "Would like to see how it feels to take you up the ass!"
David probably wasn't the only one, Dillon questioning his date, "Hey, were you checking out my speedo?"
They both look down between them, David responding, "Yeah, but have you checked out mine? Do you think it's ready for that noose?"
"For real?" Dillon's eyes lit up.
"Never had my bod suspended by my cock, but there's not much I don't go for." Testing how far Dillon would go, David poses to him, "By the way, have you ever done any hot water branding?"
"Of course I have!" Dillon says, then laughing out loud after saying, "Not! What the hell is that?"
"Not to worry," David says. He explains, "When I got off the plane and went through processing, of course the scanners picked up on `metal' and with embarrassment I had to empty out my bag of toys."
Pausing, made Dillon seek out more, not disappointing David, "Yeah? Like what kind of exciting stuff did they find?"
"Well, about the hot water branding, there are these two pieces of round metal, about the size of quarters. Each one is attached to stick' handle. Covering the ends of the sticks is rubber. What you do is use either hot tap water or hotter', dip the metal rounds into the water. Leave them there for however long you want, the longer, the hotter. You whip them out, dry them quickly on a cloth, then touch them to skin."
"Oh really? And I suppose you have had this done to you?"
Smirking, like he's proud of himself, David says, "Once. That's how I got the idea. The guy who was torturing me found out it was my first time and used tap water."
Salivating for information, because it sounded like such a cool idea, Dillon seeks, "Where did he use them?" Thinking of `two', Dillon had in his mind either nips or balls.
"Since my nips are about as wide as quarters, he went there first."
`Two' being suggestive, Dillon asks, "How about your balls?"
"We kinda ran out of time. He had left his patrol car parked in a no loading zone outside my apartment. He said he wanted to make it a quickie."
"A cop, no less. Must've been hot!"
David was thinking of a different kind of hot, the effects of the hot water stinging his nips, followed by the `hot' Dillon talked about, saying, "Was. I think I could go for it again. You into uniforms?"
"Dunno. Never did it." Another question regarding do's and don'ts, Dillon tests, "About choices, I might not give you one!" He laughs.
Calm and collective, David says, "I'd prefer it that way!" And since he was aching for something, asks, "By the way, you wouldn't happen to have a noose, would you?"
"My sneaker?" The familiar phrase following, "Your place or mine?"
All ready to depart Atlantis, ready to pace on out the door, they get stopped, Trystan saying, "Shirts, men?"
Of course, Dillon, new to security, knew Trystan.
After David takes off and hightails it back to the bar for their shirts, Trystan says, "Hot man you're getting."
"Oh? What do you know of him?"
"I was only at the Harrellsson building for a short time, before we all got whisked away, but what I know, from experience, Schlesinger can really take a heavy workover. Loves to be slapped around, especially punched in the gut."
"Hmm, experience, you say?" Dillon prodding Trystan for clues to `the visual'. "He didn't say anything like that, but was open for some cock-stretching."
Giving opinion, Trystan says, "I'm into it a little bit. I don't know if I would go as far as hanging a dude up by his cock or balls, but about the slapping around..." Trystan was all up for the retelling of David's experience in the jon, not only of Julio holding David in a full nelson, Bart del Forte going at David's midsection with his fists, then turning his cock on David's ass.
"I think David is up for it. He sounded `really' interested," Dillon shares.
"I don't know," Trystan replies. "I suppose you don't know, till you know!"
Handing Dillon his shirt, David says, "This is funny. Two dudes at the bar were claiming these were their shirts, but when I told them one of them was yours," meaning Dillon, "they suddenly said they were mistaken. What's that about?"
What was it about? Dillon sure well knew. It's been only a week since moving into his position as a member of the habitat security force and in place of handing out demerit slips, already he's verbally arranged for private punishment sessions, rather than having reported them, kept off the record and out of the offender's files. Right now he wasn't sharing it with anyone, not even Trystan, saying, "I have no idea what they meant!" He shrugged his shoulders, dove into the sleeves of his shirt, he and David leaving Trystan behind to scope out any other delinquents!
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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.