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, in towns, cities, countries, nor governmental areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most state 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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"For Sale By Owner" 14 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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Jazzy had some music in play, with Devon up on the cube.
"Whooa! Not much space to dance on."
"Don't move your feet too much, Dev ole boy," Jazzy deviated to a British accent, mixed with his fluent Jamaican. "Here, get down. Let me show you."
Before hopping up on the cube, Jazzy stripped off his tank top. Clinging to each nip, was a small ring, sized enough to fit a pinky through, Devon imagined. >From midchest, to beltline a trail of thin, dark hair ran, entering and exiting his navel. Like Knapp had said, Jazzy seemed to have this perpetual tan, all over. Well as much as he could see.
"You do mostly upper body movement... sway your hips around, alternate throwing your shoulders forward, opposite the movement of each hip, then move your arms, but keep your hands close enough to your pouch, in case you get a customer that wants more than what he's looking at. Know what I mean, Devon?"
"Sort of."
"You know what to do, right?"
"Call `muscles' over?"
"Nobody is going to hear you over the blasting music. You have to learn self-defense. Here, make like you're going to grope me."
"Grope you? Like grab your nuts?"
"And other stuff!"
Not sure of this, Devon took a deep breath. Then he went for it, but wound up getting his hand slapped before he even touched the fabric.
"Owwwch!" he cried out.
"I wasn't even slapping your hand as hard as I'd like to have."
"I get your point."
Devon loved watching Jazzy Jeff dance. To the rhythm, his little nip rings would flop up and down. He loved watching the way his hips gyrated, almost to the point of risque, contorting the hairy line down his stomach, making a forwards and backwards `S'. But his mind was still on self defense.
"Have you ever had to get real mean and nasty?"
"Oh sure. There's always the guy that wants to see more, by his choice."
"What do you do? Slap harder?"
"More than that. Once I said to a guy, come here'," Jazzy squated down and wiggled his finger, signaling Devon to come closer. "Then," he motioned this, not really doing it to Devon, "I grabbed up his nuts in my hand did round the world' with him."
"Round the world?"
"Twisted his balls up real good. He never went for mine again!"
"Have you seen him again?"
"I see him almost every night. He works the bar!"
"They hired him to work here?"
"Yep. Maintenance. Walks around and picks up empties. Seen enough?"
"I think."
"Good. Now you try it and watch out for `the gropers'!"
Jazzy had the music changed and it was Devon's turn.
"That's it, Devon. Yeah... go for it, man!"
Devon wondered if he really was doing a good job or did he read into Jazzy licking his lips, groping himself, as Jazzy bopped along to the music, as if dancing one-on-one with him.
"How's it going? Ooooh.. it's cold in here!"
In only his swim trunks, Alex produced goosebumps all over his body, his nips tight against his chest.
"He's a natural!" Jazzy points out.
"Are you sure?" Alex said, not impressed.
"He needs to loosen up... Devon," Jazzy diverts his attention, "loosen up a bit... that's it... gyrate those hips... more shoulder action."
"I've seen better."
"Think you can handle it?"
"Me?" Alex says.
"That's what I figure. Devon needs more confidence and he's sure not going to get it, unless you help him."
"Me?"
"He listens to you."
Devon jumps down from the cube, saying to Alex, "How's it look?"
"Um... good.. yeah, you're catching on real fast, Devon."
"Cool! Thanks, bud."
"Yup, you're a real natural, Devon," Jazzy states.
"Thanks. Well, I better practice some more!"
The eighteen year old hops back up on the cube and starts dancing to the beat. Even though the AC is breezing through the lounge, shiny places begin to develop midcenter of Devon's chest.
"I want to show Devon some more moves. Excuse me."
Alex wanders back to the pool, thinking about Devon. One thing he discovers is he doesn't like Jazzy Jeff!
"How's Devon making out," Kyle asks.
Alex sits down. Puts his feet in the water.
"He's doing okay. Kyle, can I tell you something?"
"What?"
"I don't care much for the likes of Jazzy Jeff."
"He's okay. He just gets into it. Why?"
"I don't know and another thing."
"What?"
Sitting at the side of the pool, Alex relays, "Sometimes I don't like the way Knapp addresses Devon."
"I know."
"You know?"
"Yup. You see, I'm getting to know you already, Alex. I can sense it."
"How come you didn't say anything about it?"
"We haven't had time to talk. That's all."
"We have time now."
"Yeah, about fifteen minutes. Let's see... Knapp... yeah, he can get carried away sometimes with guys, but only ones he really likes."
"He likes me, doesn't he?"
"Yes, but you're liked in a different way."
"I'm confused."
"Because you're my boyfriend. Now you are... like connected to me, Knapp wouldn't let anyone hurt or take advantage of you, as well as myself."
"Protective brother."
"Exactly. How do you think I made it into cooking school!"
"Because you cook good?"
"Nope. I can't even boil water!"
"Do you want to be a chef?"
"I'm not sure. I'm not sure what I want. A few years ago I played the trumpet and wanted to go to music school."
"What happened?"
"Like I say, I'm not sure."
"I see. But what about Devon?"
"Oh, Knapp has this protective concern of Devon. Believe me. You'll see it tonight, when some cock-hungry guy tries to get fresh with him."
"Then why is he having Devon as a cube-boy?"
"Because there's no other young guy with his hot looks."
"What about Mike or Dougie?"
"They're in their late twenties. Besides, they've been waiting tables since Eden opened."
"There's nobody else?"
"Only Knapp, but like he said, he needs to waiter the tables. Oh yeah, then there's Jose, but Jose is off tonight. Unless he shows up."
"He comes to work on his night off?"
"Sometimes. Jose really doesn't have a lot to do."
"How long have you all been working here?"
"Jose is nineteen. He should be in college, but works instead. He dates Peter Lee, son of the owner of the Red Dragon. I envy Peter, in a way."
"Why?"
"He's a cellist and attends Julliard."
"Then why don't you go to Julliard, for trumpet."
"I've let it slip. I'd never make it in."
"There's always a time when you can start over. All you have to do is want to, Kyle."
"I've thought about it, but with Knapp wanting me to go to the International Cooking School, I've more or less forgotten about the trumpet."
"I'd reconsider. The way it looks to me, your doing what Knapp wants you to do. You've got to think for yourself. I mean, look at me and my briefs business. Right now I create, produce and with the help of Greg, market them. Someday I hope to build my own company."
"One thing I'm glad of."
"That's?"
"I'll have a successful man in my life."
"Yeah and I hope I can say the same."
"I dunno. Maybe I'll look into getting some trumpet lessons."
"So, how long has the others been here?"
"Knapp has been here for two years. When I turned eighteen, last year, he brought me here to live with him. Want to hear something?"
"What's that?"
"Knapp has been saving my room for me for almost a year."
"Wow! That's great of him to do that, but what about when we go off to school in the fall?"
"We?"
"Oops. Freudian slip. What happens when you... you know."
"They will hold the rooms. Knapp will be back almost every Friday, to manage during the weekends."
"But you have all that money. He doesn't have to."
"Right, he doesn't, but he chooses to. He likes to work."
"What about you?"
"Me? You mean us? Yeah, I'm like Knapp, in I like to work. Like you're thinking, we have a lot of money to our names, but we like to earn our way, too."
"I'm sorry I had to ask."
"It's okay. Now I think we better look official. Guys are starting to come in. I'll give you a sheet with some basic rules... here's a whistle for you and your tank top."
Alex held it up and looked at it, before throwing the tank over his head. It read: Don't Call Me, I'll Call You!' Corny', Alex thought, but put it on anyway. He didn't like the fit, either and wished he had one of his tank top proto-types. One which didn't feel like it was strangling his bod!
The evening went along quiet, most guests seemingly behaving themselves. Everytime Alex looked at Knapp, it seemed he was keyed into Devon. Then he would switch focus to Devon. A coupla times it looked like guys were trying to suck his dick right through the G-String. He recalled the feeling, when Greg tried to do the same to him! On the dancefloor, Jazzy Jeff danced with several partners. An observer really couldn't tell who danced with who, as one big conglomeration of dancers partied. Once, at the pool, a guy pretended he was drowning, only to steal a kiss from Kyle, as he did CPR. The bouncer, Big Mike, came over, escorted him to his locker, then `bounced' him!
"That was disgusting," Alex told Kyle.
"Yeah. Too bad too. He was a great kisser!"
"He was what?"
"Chill, Alex. I'm joking."
"I know."
"You know, do you?"
"Yeah. Like you said about me, I'm getting used to feeling you out."
"Cool! Well, only forty-fives minutes and pooltime ends."
"Really? I thought it was open as long as the club stays open."
"Nope. Only until 10. Then Knapp fires up the grills and the pool area becomes a patio."
"Then what do we do?"
"Change into our street clothes and have some fun... eat, dance... whatever you want to do."
"Cool!"
"Devon should be getting off at 10, too."
"Cool! The three of us can party."
"No, I meant off the cube. Knapp will take his place and Devon can work cleanup duty. Our maintenance guy, George will put on his waiter's outfit, then later change and take over Knapp's turn on the cube."
"Not the same as waiting tables, I take it."
"Nope. He just clears away tables, picks up abandoned drinks, etc, etc."
"There he goes now. Where's he going?"
"To change outfits with Knapp, most likely. Have you noticed how they are both almost the same height and weight?"
"Height, yes, but never thought about the clothes size."
"Works out perfect. Oh look who shows up!"
"Who?"
"Over there, by the bar. Jose Flores."
Sneaking into the employee's lounge, Jose slips into his `moonlighting' outfit, a below-the-bellyhole bottom and the official black bowtie. He waits tables, letting George off the hook. So, Devon and George work maintenance, till George's turn comes at the cube.
"You've got it down good now, Alex."
"Thanks. Can we go shower now?"
"I'd like that. Get this pool scum off of me."
So, off through the club, the two hustle, down the stairs, to the employee's quarters. Kyle walks in the door, lowers his speedo, kicking it up, catching it.
"Good shot," Alex says, trying to do the same, almost tripping.
"Practise makes perfect."
"I thought it was `perfect practise', makes perfect?"
"Something like that."
Kyle heads for the jon. Feeling mighty randy, Alex follows. As Kyle bends, to adjust the temperature of the spout, Alex does the same, following the curvature of Kyle's spine.
"Mmmmm.... I love the feel of your hairy bod on my back."
"What about this?"
Alex lurches forwards. His already hard 9.5c, presses into Kyle's ass crevice.
"Ooooooh hell yeah!"
With a flick of his wrist, Kyle turns the spout to rainwater. He slips into the tub, standing under the water. Alex follows. Face to face, the water trickles over their heads, down their bods.
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Copyright 2007 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author. 2134wds % Rewards for contributing to Nifty are feedback with your e-mails, if you like the story. Please include the name of the story in the title of your e-mail, or it could be mistaken for spam...Thanks!