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 any state (21yo in Alabama, Mississippi, Wyoming, Nebraska), or in most countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such.
Following, pages of this story contain adult material', intended for an adult audience'. Bypass this warning at your own risk.
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FiRE iSLAND BiKiNiS 19
WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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Since it was mid-season, nothing much happening in the way of buying and selling real estate, the only two businesses in upheaval on the island were Topher's and The Flake House.
Wes Bentley had done a lot of `legal' legal favors for people and with just being a nice guy at heart, people weren't reluctant to give him the courtesy of doing their best in return.
However, there was a big difference in the city claims office, between last week, Wes finding a different dude sitting behind the only desk, "Where's Al?"
Without even looking up, the clerk, whom Wes judged, could have been fresh out of college, says, "Al isn't here anymore. It goes in this box," he slaps the paperwork snatched out of Wes' hand with his own, on the top tier of a metal tray, "and I'll give you a call when you can come pick it up."
Wes didn't say, nor do anything, just stood there, lost in thought, finally saying, "Listen, Al knows, as well as me, this isn't exactly a time of year when people are buying and selling business related real estate, so if you can show the same courtesy he would," Wes takes his papers out of the tray and places them right in front of the clerk, "it would be appreciated, since I'd like to have this expedited as soon as possible."
"Fine," the obnoxious clerk says, taking the paper, "but you do know there is a rush fee?"
Sometimes there was, in other towns, in other places, but not here on Fire Island, where the city claims office was not the hustle and bustle of a metropolitan area, especially never having to pay to have something back the next day, asking, "Fee? What kind of fee?" If it were $25, Wes would open his wallet and pay it, doing just that.
"Depends on when you want it."
"Would tomorrow be asking too much?" Wes asks.
"No problem. The rush fee will be $7,580.00."
Flabbergasted, Wes exclaims, "Seven thousand and what?"
"Unless you want to wait till next week, then the fee will be half that."
"Where's your boss?" Wes asks, knowing Tom Taylor for more years than he's lived on the island.
"Mr. Taylor is on a deep sea fishing trip and won't be back until next week."
`Oh boy,' Wes thought. Not one to back down, he did go pretty much by the rules.
His silence provokes the lad to say, "If you don't believe me, go ahead and look."
"Why wouldn't I believe you? You have something to hide?" Wes replies.
"I knew you had doubts," the clerk says.
He didn't. What a scammer, Wes thought, this guy turning everything around like it was... `oh, what the heck', he follows the young dude to Tom's office.
Opening it, the clerk is half in, half out of the door, "See for yourself."
"I see," Wes says standing outside the open door.
With the clerk inside and outside the office, Wes' arm was almost in the position to touch, "When did you say you wanted those papers?"
"Look, I have a friend. He's in a handicapped chair. Him and his brother are trying to save Topher's and at the same time, it's something for the younger brother to invest him time in. Tell you the truth," Wes levels with him, "based on how business is done around here, I was sure I could have everything in order for them to step right into the business tomorrow, as their own."
"Touching story," the clerk didn't show any emotion, "I feel for you. Maybe we can work something out."
Wes could see how he wanted to work things out, walking inside Tom Taylor's office, holding the doorknob, like it was an invitation.
Another moment of silence, Wes held the same opinion as he did when he laid eyes on the clerk, too bad he came in there about business!
"Unless," he steps outside the doorway, butts his front right up to Wes, closing the door behind him, "you want to be less sleazy about this and invite me out to dinner first?"
Wes says, "Thanks for inviting yourself."
First smile he's had since Wes started to converse with him, he says, "I'm Scott O'Scanlin, by the way," he pulls on Wes' necktie, reeling him in for a kiss!
"Holy fuck!" Wes backs away.
Brushing by Wes, reporting back to his desk, Scott asks, "What time are you picking me up for dinner?" he picks up Wes' papers, stamps them with 2 stampers, writes in a date, goes to the next page, doing the same thing, "I'll have these ready for you when you pick me up."
"That's what was going to cost me $7,500?" the 34-year old attorney says, walking around to the front of the desk.
"And $80. You didn't say what time you're picking me up?" Scott replies, handing Wes the papers.
He usually had dinner around 6, saying, "How's 6pm?"
"How about now? I'm ready to close."
"Really?" Wes asks. "On the front door it says you close at 5. Al never..."
"It's been a slow day. They won't miss me."
So it went, Wes not saying a thing, watching the 25-year old clerk close up shop, ushering him out the front door.
"Why don't we go to your place?"
Wes was just trying to figure all this out and taken by surprise. For certain, he's never been out with a guy whose personality borderlines on dominance. Now that he's had the papers put in his hands, "What's wrong with your place?"
"I don't live on the island," Scott replies.
"Oh," Wes thought it a rational reason. He did feel uncomfortable taking Scott back to his place, just yet and passing right in front of Castillio's, decided it a good detour.
Walking in, who was in line before them, but Jay, Jeremy, Jared and Stewart. Jay had wanted to talk over old times with Winson, inviting him along. Jared thought it would be nice to reconnect with Jesse.
"Jared?" Wes calls out.
"Oh hi," Jared says, looking beyond his attorney.
"This is Scott. He works down at city hall," Wes didn't go into detail, especially after the scammer worked his scam on him!
After everyone met everyone else, Jared invites Wes and his guest to sit with them.
Wes couldn't believe it, having captured Scott's attention, to have him lusting over Jesse! It was not only once, clinging a little too long to his welcoming hand, but throughout the whole evening, Wes was treated like a wallflower!
And the impudence! At the end of the dinner, Scott simply said he was going home with Jesse, opening his attache, taking out papers and tossing them on the table, "Here's your papers!"
Another scam, Wes is astounded, how the papers were already endorsed back at city hall!
Leaving together, the rest of the party, Jared singles Wes out, "What's the matter, you look like you lost your best friend?"
Stuart and Jared listened to Wes babble on, "Best friend? No, no, no, no, no, not in yours or my dreams!"
Moving faster, Jay, Jeremy and Winson moved on ahead, leaving Jared and Stuart to chat with Wes.
He wasn't going to clue anyone into all that went on at city hall, except meeting Scott and having him complete the work on the deed to Topher's, but now, he told all, saying at the completion of his story, "And as much as I would have loved the company tonight, I'm not so sure what kind of a character Scott would have worked out to be."
Passing right in front of Donato's Pizzeria, they are broad-sided by a patron making his exit, Jared exclaiming, "Pastor Mark!"
"Hey," the Episcopalian minister flashes his signature bright smile, "what are you up to?"
Being in a town a short while, Mark has not met every citizen, probably the reason he was checking out Wes Bentley!
"We've just finished eating at Castillio's," Jared replies, "What's up with you?"
"Just downed a beer and slice of pizza and now thought I'd head down the road and do some dirty dancin'!"
Mostly untraditional in the way he dressed, Mark rarely wore the pastor's `uniform', rather wearing jeans and whichever his preference, a tee shirt or as was the occasion, meeting up with a parish member, a buttoned down shirt, sleeves rolled up.
Wes looks at Mark strangely, saying, "Did I hear right, you're the pastor of a church?"
"St. Stephens-by-the-Sea," Mark replies. "By the way, I didn't catch your name?"
A fixture to Mark and Wes' conversation, Jared and Stuart listen in, Wes introducing himself.
Whatever the conversation, Mark moved fast and before they all knew it, he was asking Wes, "I'm headed over to HOODWINK'd. I'd like to have you join me, if you're not on the run?"
Wes vaguely says, "HOODWINK'd is a gay bar!"
Knowing all too well that type of question, Mark says, "I know what you're thinking, but why shouldn't I have as much of a good time as the next `gay' guy?"
"I have this strange feeling, if anyone questioned the sanctity of guys shaking their booties all over the place, you could handle it?" Wes replies.
Invited to go along, at first Jared was skeptical, Jay going home with Jeremy, Winson tagging along, but it was Stuart who sway his opinion, telling him just to make a call.
Cutting off after his call, Jared says, "Jay told me to have a good time and don't come home too soon. What do you think that means?"
"He wants his privacy, to be with his friends?" Stuart replies.
"I guess," Jared pouts.
"Why? You're not jealous, are you?"
"Of who?" Jared asks, following behind Wes and Mark.
"You put a lot of work and emotion into getting Jay back to as normal as life can be. I can understand your concern for him," Stuart replies.
"Do you happen to read Ann Landers a lot?"
"No," Stuart replies, "but I have covered many stories which deal with the human condition. It's one of the reasons I thought Jay's story was worthy enough to bring up to my editor. I've convinced him there's more to his story than being a surfer who has had an accident."
"I suppose," what Jared's been thinking anyway, "sometime I will have to break the link in the chain."
"It's not like you're running away to Australia. You'll still be a phone call away?" Stuart presents.
"True," thinking on how he was certain they were going to get to know Arrow and next thing they know he's back on the plane.
With the comfort of Stuart's words, Jared suddenly felt like he was standing in his dancing shoes!
While at the beach house, Jay and Jeremy more focused on getting to know each other. When they hit home, Winson was famished, asking where the kitchen was located!
Within the time it took Jeremy to tell some of his latter life history, was all it took for Winson to whip up something aromatic, causing Jay to say, "Whatever that smell is, it's making me hungry too!"
Jeremy agreed.
After Jay transported himself to the kitchen, Jeremy trailing, they found steam rising from 3 separate pans on the stove. An even more intense variety of flavors filled their nostrils, prompting Jay to ask, "Winson, what are you doing?"
"What does it look like?" he truthfully answers, saying, "I learned to cook from my family. When we did not have an ingredient, we substituted something else."
"A little heavy on the hot stuff?" Jeremy questions.
"Only one way to find out!" Winson switches off all three burners, removing one pot from the stove.
"Organized, isn't he?" Jay asks Jeremy, watching Winson dish out the pan onto three plates.
"Why don't you go out onto the deck? I will take care of everything," Winson tells them.
Jay told Jeremy to raid the fridge for some beer. At least they felt a little helpful to the cook!
As with some of the other areas of the house, for Jay, he hadn't come to terms with the place having been lived in long enough. He had a scant recollection of what the deck looked like, but it took having dinner out there to find out some wooden furniture could be pulled together to form informal seating for eating.
More, it became Jeremy doing the work, under Jay's direction, "Yeah, put that over there and pull the other chair over to the table."
Jeremy had already figured out how to arrange the deck, as dinner for three, but liked the way Jay was involving himself. For the second time, Thor had lay down, Jeremy telling him, "Sorry boy, but you've got to move again!"
Thor hesitates for the second time.
"Don't blame me," Jeremy tells him, "Complain to your master!"
Of which Thor seemed to understand, walking over to Jay, putting both paws up on Jay's knees and barking.
Jay jokes, "If you don't like it Thor, go find another master!"
Though, so attached to Thor, Jay would not, in a million years ever wish it to be so, making it known, even though it was a dog, "Just kiddin'!" he laughs.
It was no problem for Winson, having rushed back into the kitchen 3 or 4 times to fetch something. On the second trek, Thor went with him. Winson put him to use, bringing out some napkins.
Things, done by the previous inhabitant, as Jay was finding out, one was they did not use paper napkins. A whole draw full of them, it was good, because if they were paper, Thor's jaw would have probably eaten right through them.
"I get the one in the middle!" Jay claims, the one napkin which was not chomped down on by Thor's upper or lower jaw!
Winson, making do with a lot of things in his life, says, "Turn it inside out, Jeremy."
They did, obliterating the sappy part of the napkin.
Jeremy gives warning, "But only use the inside part."
"I hear ya," Winson replies.
Talking things over, of course the store came up, which Jay's excitement tickled the other two.
As for the others, Jared, Stuart, Wes and Mark had hit HOODWINK'd at a busy time, having to wait about 5 minutes to get in. Once inside, there were 2 entrances. To the right for `Clothes Check', to the left to go right into the club.
"Hmm," Jared says, "what's everyone in the mood for?"
"You think I'm going to get all sweated up?" Pastor Mark makes up their minds for them.
The corridor contained small plastic containers, with the ability to fasten a small lock on it. The key to each had a number on it, which corresponded to the container.
There was no privacy. With ten open stalls on each side of the corridor, a guy could look across and see a stranger, or someone he might happen to know, stripping off whichever article of clothing he wished not wearing into the club.
A $10 deposit was due up front, Mark saying, "Just proves, you can't afford everything on a preacher's salary."
Wes, who already had his shirt off, says, "Forget it Mark. Get that shirt off right now!" he flashed a 20 dollar bill!
The stalls were large enough to accommodate 2, which is where Stuart and Jared were now.
Nothing, other than stripping off clothing was tolerated. As was happening right now, Jeffrey Stahl, who worked the clothes check counter, hung over the wooden divider, between the crowd and stashing away the plastic boxes, didn't give a shit who he embarrassed, yelling at two guys for making their stripping down too intimate, "Hey you two! Yeah, you know who I mean," Jeffrey yells in his macho, dominating tone, "save it for later!"
Jared says to Stuart, "Oh man, I'm glad it's not us!"
Down to his briefs, Stuart says, "I could understand, one guy being slow, the other speedy, like what's the speedy guy going to do while he's waiting for the other?"
"Are you saying I'm not moving fast enough?" Jared asks him.
Apparently, since Stuart had taken his shirt and pants off, Jared still in his pants, just starting to unbuckle them, saying a cool, "Hmm."
As they approach the counter, they turn in their containers, holding onto their keys.
"Keys?" Jeffrey asks.
"I thought we hold onto them?" Jared asks.
Jeffrey replies, "Used to be the case, but too many guys were losing them," he tells them, taking a marker, asking, "Where do you want it?"
Stuart asks, "Does it come off with soap?"
"Does, but just in case, I never write a number above the neck," Jeffery replies.
Jared wasn't sure, but Stuart was going to make it as inconvenient as possible, "Here."
Expecting, like other customers, a temporary `tattoo' on a shoulder, back or as Jeffrey had to label Stuart, "Wiseguy!"
Smiling, Jared knew, in order for Jeffrey to write the number right below the waistline of the Nouguet briefs, the attendant would have to bend way over the counter.
Jeffrey asks, "Did I mention the number goes below the neck?"
"Yeah. So?" Stuart replies, his thumb still bending the waistband, revealing some pubic matter.
"Above the waist is the other half of the rule!"
"Looks like he's got you," Jared says.
"Who's side are you on?" Stuart asks him.
"Just protecting my interests!" Jared quips.
Having seen the box number, '77', Stuart turns around, saying, "Go ahead. And make it look like I'm a football hero!"
Jeffry was quite good at instant art work, creating two bulked out sevens in less than a minute, ending with, "That'll be $10 and there better be big tip when you come back!"
Jared escapes with paying the ten, no tip attached, 76 inscribed on his choice of bare skin, his back as well. Mostly smooth, a bit of chest fur, around his nips, a trail down yonder, Jared says of Stuart's hair configuration, "I think Jeffry has taken a liking to you!"
"Maybe I've taken a liking to Jeffry!" Stuart replies.
"Oh really?" Jared questions Stuart's interests, both hands on hips.
"Y'know, you look really cute when you try to be angry?" Stuart buzzes his lips past Jared's cheek.
In doing so, their bare chests mingle, Jared getting goosebumps from it, "I think I feel a chill."
"C'mon then," Stuart grabs Jared's hand, pulling him into the troupe of club dancers.
As for Jay, on his own, in a place he was slowly calling `home', the atmosphere felt awesome. He could have had a perfectly good evening with Jared there, but 2 dudes nearly his own age, Winson one year younger, Jeremy a year older, the two were great company for him, especially one who had a knack for turning a bunch of assorted foods into a delectable delight!
"This is really awesome, Winson," Jay awards the chef.
Jeremy agrees, "I love spicy food!"
"Thanks," Winson fork-fed himself, sitting on Jay's right.
Then suddenly Thor barks, which reminds Jay, "Oh, did I forget about my best bud?" he looks down at the Thor, on all fours.
However, it was and wasn't the case, Thor pawing at the screen door which leads from the back porch, into the house.
"I'll get it," Winson, who was closet to the door, elects himself.
"Hey, who are you?" Winson is greeted, upon sliding the door open.
"Me?" Winson replies. "Who are you?"
Recognizing the voice, even though he's only heard it once, "Is that you, Joel?" Jay shouts.
Sure enough, even though Joel Namboothiri hung out with the wildest of the four brothers, Sam, he had more control of his senses when it came to drinking and doing dumb stuff, "It is. I decided to come back home, instead of going swimming."
"In the ocean, at night?" Winson asks.
"And drinking?" Jay asks.
"Totally suicidal," Winson replies. "I'm glad one of you is the smarter." Or was it Winson the smartest, asking, "How would you like some of my homemade Rajma?"
"You're kiddin'? I love Rajma!" Joel exclaims. Or was it he was loving Winson's sense of humor and other attributes which made him out to be a fun-loving dude!
Jay asks Jeremy, "What's Ragemah?"
"Darned if I know, but it tastes good," Jeremy replies.
Thor, still unfed, looks up at Jay.
"Sorry boy, but I don't think this will do justice to your stomach," Jay tells the alert dog. "Jeremy, would you mind going in the kitchen closet and getting Thor some food?"
"No problem."
"And his dish?"
In no time, as Jay prepped Thor for another delicious dog-meal, Jeremy reports back. One arm secured a bag, a can clasped between the bag and his right chest. In his left hand was Thor's doggie-dish.
However, `Thor' was not on Jeremy's mind, "Winson and your friend are doing more than tasting Rajma in the kitchen!"
"How would I not find that hard to believe?" Jay replies, taking Thor's dish.
"Dry or wet?" Jeremy asks.
His mind on `the kitchen', Jay asks, "I don't know. How involved are they?"
Cocking his head to one side, Jeremy replies, "I meant, does Thor want wet or dry food?"
"Oh!" Jay comes to his senses, "I knew that! Dry probably."
The two found out tonight how much Thor likes beer, pouring a little into his dish, so the dry food would not be too crunchy for him. It was either that, or ocean water, being neither of the human couple wished to disturb the kitchen-dwellers!
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Copyright 2013 T. Chase McPhee
`FiRE iSLAND BiKiNiS', and developing segments of this story, may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.