Subject:
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" 49 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"Are these two seats taken?"
"I thought that voice sounded familiar," Alex jokes, nudging Kyle to stand up.
When the two dropped their asses down into their cushy seats, Alex was quick on the draw to ask, "So who's your friend, Vince?"
"I guess you don't recognize him without his green pixie outfit on, do you?" Vince asks.
"Vince, I'm going to clobber you! I told you. I wear the uniform because I have to!"
"I know, I know, Ric. Cool your jets."
Then, leaning over Vince's chest, the one Vince called, 'Ric', offers his hand and "Ric Resendez. Remember I delivered flowers to you today?"
"Oh right. The one's for Jason, from his dad." Alex half jokes, "You do look a hundred percent better without the uniform."
Kyle noticed how Ric and Alex's eyes seemed to connect.
"Um, do you mind Ric?" Vince broke them up, tapping the underside of Ric's bod with his hand.
As Ric went to say something comical to Vince, Alex leans over into the thirty-four year old's ear and whispers, "My how you move fast, Vincent!"
"I told you 'not' to call me that!"
"I know," Alex replied, his smile gleaming.
Shortly the house lights dimmed, the Miller recital hall becoming pitch dark seconds before the stage lit up. When Carlos walked out on the stage, his trumpet in hand, the lights shooting off of it like pyrotechnics, a light applause broke out. Kyle and Alex applauded along, but Vince, who has never met Carlos before, began cheering. Sticking two fingers between his lips, he let out a shriek of a whistle, as if at a rodeo, cheering on the victor.
"Um, I think they want you only to applaude," Ric put it, trying to tame Vince's concert etiquette.
"Ya think?" Vince replied.
Smiling, Alex passed on to Kyle what Ric said.
Kyle replied, "I guess they must be getting along alright, if Ric can bust Vince's chops and get away with it!"
"Like he lets Jarrett get away with murder?" Alex suggests.
Before the two could interact anymore, the pianist looked to Carlos who nodded and away they went. Carlos flawlessly entered by way of a cue, playing the theme of Haydn's 'Trumpet Concerto'.
During the performance, which lasted quite sometime, Vince turned to Alex to mention, "I'm gonna be all black'n'blue tomorrow." Alex found out why, Ric stabbing Vince in the ribs with his elbow, same action he's done two to three other times, a result of Vince opening his mouth and jabbering on for two or three seconds. At the conclusion, when folks around stood and yelled 'bravo!', Ric cringed when he heard the shrieking sound out of Vince's lips. Ric rolled his eyes, thinking of what a challenge it is going to be, breaking Vince into the world of concert-going.
"Man can he toot up a storm, eh Ric?"
Alex smiled to see Ric mouthing a wide open, 'owww', as Vince jabbed his elbow into Ric's side. .
"That was rude," Vince said to Ric.
"What?" Ric asked, totally unsure of Vince's meaning.
"Carlos. Don't you think he should have come down from the stage and said hello to us?"
Ric just shook his head, a small smile glazing his lips as he remarked, "Vince, you have a 'lot' to learn about going to concerts." At the same time, Ric's hand grazed over Vince's shoulder and down his back.
It didn't go unnoticed, Vince getting a 'chill' effect from Ric's hand, also a small jolt from down below. Suddenly realizing Ric expected some feeback, he simply asks, "What?"
By this time they had slowly found their way to the exit. The dark theater lights broke open to the dawn of the reception hall. "Hey look! They got food!"
Ric went on to explain the reason Carlos didn't drop down the stairs from the stage.
"Makes sense," Vince responded to Ric, his eyes scanning the room, picking up on all the delicasies of the reception hall, platters of toast with crabmeat salad, toothpicks stabbing green olives wrapped in bacon, fruit and vegetable platters lining tables, the cute guy serving up punch! He mentions to Ric, "Um, my throat seems a little parched. I think I'll head over to the punchbowl."
Right on his tail, Ric was feeling abit thristy himself!
"Kyle?"
Kyle searches over heads looking for the person who called out his name.
Alex, utilizing his tip toes, telescoping his six foot, one inch height, landed on his soles to tell Kyle, "Would you believe it's Braddock?"
"Stephen's here? Where?" Kyle quizzed him.
"Over there," Alex tenderly slapped Kyle's face around, in the direction of the exit to Miller Hall, his hands to each side of his lover's face.
"Yeah and he has your two good friends with him," Kyle said facetiously.
"Who?" Alex replied again elevating himself. Upon seeing Afon Hasteras and David Sonnemaker trailing Braddock, he sunk down quickly, uttering, "Maybe we should leave?"
"We can't leave yet Alex. This is a big night for Carlos. We have to stick around for a little while. At least til we convey our thoughts to him."
Alex tried 'escaping', but he understood Kyle couldn't possibly avoid Stephen Braddock, his father's good friend. In a way he seemed to think Kyle rather liked the man too. Alex couldn't hide the fact he liked Braddock, but the other two?
Stephen Braddock latched onto Kyle, while Hasteras and Sonnemaker made a beeline for Alex!
"It's a shame you couldn't make it to my little get together last night." Being careful not to talk so loud, as the crowd had been loud enough, David Sonnemaker clued him in, "I had a nice boy toy all ready to worship at your feet!"
Sonnemaker wasn't turned off by Alex's frankness before, so he took a gander on reiterating his position in honest terms, "I'm not interested Mr. Sonnemaker, so if you'll excuse me?"
He could have let Alex's remark make his blood boil over not getting his own way, but David Sonnemaker allowed Alex to slide, even as the teen blocked him out of the conversation between Kyle, Braddock and Afon Hasteras. In fact, even though Alex didn't let him have his way with him, he found it exciting this eighteen year old stood up to him, didn't take any guff from him. It wasn't the twenty-six year old tycoon's blood boiling at the moment, but rather his balls. For the rest of the reception, David Sonnemaker half paid attentiton to the two men he arrived with, Stephen admiring the decor, saying he was going to look up the architects and plan something for one of his stores, based on this design. Too, it seemed Afon Hasteras had similar goals to Sonnemaker, but kept them to himself, letting his eyes do investigative work, keeping tabs on Alex.
As Alex and Kyle stepped closer to Carlos' reception line, their radar picked up on that all too familiar voice.
"I don't know how you get all those notes in there all at once, but it was great! Really great! I'm going out tomorrow and buying all of your CDs!"
Alex and Kyle turn to each other, simultaneouly saying, "Vince."
"You know that stud?" the male voice came from over their shoulders.
Alex, thinking it was Sonnemaker, stood ready to give him another piece of his mind, but then turned to Kyle, saying, "It's Stephen Braddock!"
"Oh Gawd," Kyle reacted.
When Kyle and Alex reached the front of the line, it looked as if Vince portrayed the proud father. Stephen Braddock, not knowing any wiser, stepped up to Vince, took his hand, saying, "Mr. Guerra, your son is an absolute total marvel!"
"My son huh?" Vince replied, looking Stephen Braddock up and down as if a gold statue from the pyramids.
"He 'is' your son?"
Alex and Kyle couldn't hold back their laughter.
Getting the message, Braddock, still clasping Vince's hand reduces his voice as well as his charge of Vince being Carlos' dad, "You're not the young man's father, are you?"
"Nope," Vince simply said, adding a cute smile.
"Then I guess I've gone and made the biggest ass out of myself!"
Alex and Kyle left Braddock to his flirting.
Right away Vince introduced Stephen to Ric. Straying away from the crowd, the three went at it, chatting up a storm.
Standing in front of Carlos, Kyle asks, "Alright to mess up your tux?"
Carlos answered with the biggest hug, Alex asking, "Hey, save some of that for me?"
Not far away, David Sonnemaker talked to Afon Hasteras, saying, "Oh man... if I could just get him into some chaps, a harness and some boots," the whole time his eyes beeming at Alex.
"You really like Alex, don't you?"
"I'd get on my knees and worship his balls!"
"I'd like to see that!" Afon replied, giggling.
"If I hear what I said repeated, you'll be on your back in my dungeon, on the rack with me at the controls kicking it up a notch!"
Afon, a playmate of Sonnemaker, knew the outlay of his basement dungeon, at times seeing a wannabee victim tied out eagle-spread, enjoying his bod stretched out, being stretched more, a scene he would never be caught playing. "Your secret's safe with me, David." Their friendship going back to schooldays, it wasn't by his own credentials Afon Hasteras became an illustrious professor at the fashion school, same one Alex intended on pursuing. Like others in David Sonnemakers circle of friends, he more or less became a puppet to his every whim. Since meeting Alex at the Coffee Bean, Afon has wondered why David let Alex get away with doing him dirty, like not showing up at the dungeon party, being obstinant in public towards David and now almost like Alex telling David to 'go to hell', purposely turning his back on him. People just didn't do that to David Sonnemaker, neither in his business nor private life. Even strangers would get the 'death-stare'. Yet, David was allowing Alex to get away with it.
"Say, you and David find your own way home, I'm going out for a beer with my new friends."
"David's 'not' going to like you leaving us high and dry without a car," Afon told Braddock.
"You think I think piddly squat of what Sonnemaker thinks? Just get the message to him."
He was almost convincing himself Alex was the only exception to the rule, when Afon confronted Stephen Braddock. What he feared now is relaying the message to David.
Vince's eyes just about popped out when out on Claremont Ave. Stephen Braddock's limo pulled up to the curb.
"Wow! I haven't ridden in a baby this long, since my cousin Alfredo's wedding!"
Ric sided with Vince. Not only that, when Vince went to reach for the door handle, a guy excuses himself and opens it for him.
"Hmm... am I supposed to tip you or something?" Vince asks, face all alit with delight at the young man chaffeuring them into the car.
Well versed at serving Stephen Braddock's gay chums, the twenty-two year old counters Vince's humor with, "I think we can work something out later."
Getting in, the door closing behind him, Vince brazenly says to Stephen, "I really like your choice of chaffeurs!"
It was obvious the young guy entered the lux vehicle at the passenger side.
"Adam." Stephen Braddock named the doorman. "Luke is my driver. Adam? He's what you might call of 'jack of all trades', there when I need him to help entertain my guests.
That gave Vince something to think about, if not in a realm of fantasy.
By this time both Ric and Vince had figured Stephen Braddock out to be 'bent'. Ric, who sits next to Stephen, says, "Nice aftershave you're wearing, Stephen."
"Like it do ya? Why don't you come over and get a better sniff?" Stephen replies. After two seconds of getting cuddly with Ric, Stephen realizes Vince as the third wheel. Picking up the remote phone, Stephen speaks into it. A flash later and the car stops dead in the street.
"What's happening? Are we here?" Vince asks.
Opening the door, they all peer at the kid that held the door for them.
"Evening up the score!" Stephen replies with a sly look on his face.
At first both Ric and Vince were in total confusion. When the doorman entered, sat next to Vince, offered, "Hi! I'm Adam," the two well read Stephen Braddock's plan. "Are you okay with this?" Adam said to Vince.
"Sure. Who am I to argue over Stephen's suggestion!" Vince replied, not complaining one bit as Adam's hands were all over him, caring less and less about Ric and Stephen making out.
Adam wondered if Stephen 'prepped' his coming in the back of the limo, telling Vince what was said on the communicator between the two. Before Stephen even mentioned anything of Adam joining the three of them, Adam stuck his dibs in, saying to Stephen, 'The Italian guy.. he's really hot!'
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"Ready?"
"I'm as ready as I'll ever get," Jim replied.
Looking Jim up and down, he stopped at his waistline.
Recalling something from last night, or rather early this morning, Jim puts two and two together, coming up with, "Why did you switch 'boys' with Bill?"
The question threw Jack for a loop, not even thinking ot it. "Why did I switch boys?"
"Right. Here you brought this muscled guy to the dungeon party, made him strip, had him tied to the post and carried into the dungeon like the rest of us, but you chose to give up on his rippled abs for a beefy guy like me."
"So?"
Taking Jack's hand in his, Jim fashioned Jack's fingers into a fist, leaning it into his stomach. "You were going to use the muscled guy for a punching bag, weren't you?"
"Well, I...."
"I bet you want to punch me in the stomach right now, don't you?" Jim said, goading Jack on, pressing his knuckles into his soft solar plexus.
Withdrawing his hand, letting it flop to his side, Jack replies, "Look, I have to admit I have this fetish for playing with a guy's stomach, but..." he paused, glancing to Jim's, then saying, "right now you're in no shape to take a punch in the gut, okay?"
"What do you mean?" Jim pats his own stomach. "I can be just as tough as that muscle dude!"
"So you say, but have you ever been punched in the stomach... on purpose?"
"Well no. It's not like I haven't. I mean when I was sixteen I got in a fight with another kid and he punched me there."
Jack then lays into him, saying, "The 'muscle dude' works out seven days a week. He probably can top a hundred crunches at one sitting. Plus, with all the other fitness training he does he's likely to have less than one percent body fat."
"So?"
Hands on hips, looking towards the ceiling, Jack figured the only way to get his point across would be a live demonstration. "Okay, put your hands behind your head and tighten your abs up."
"You... you're going to punch me in the stomach?" Jim replied, swallowing from sudden nervousness.
"It's what you wanted isn't it?" Jack questioned him.
"No. It's what 'you' want, Jack!"
"I'm not getting it, Jim. What do you want me to do?" Jack replied, frustrated over Jim's motives.
"Okay, here. Have it your way. I'm standing here with my hands behind my head. What else?"
Figuring the only way to make this conversation a dead issue would be to haul off and let Jim have it. So, without warning, he drew his elbow back and suckerpunched him in the stomach.
"Omphfffffffffffff!" Jim yelled out, all the air in his lungs exhaling at once, caving in and falling to his knees.
"You okay?" Jack asks, squatting down.
"Do I..... look okay?" Jim squealed, hardly a breath to support his answer.
Getting up, throwing his hands up in the air, Jack complains, "Oh, so it's all my fault now!"
With one knee on the floor, Jim reaches for the porch railing, lifting his weight against the pulling of his arm.
"Here, let me help you."
"I can get there on my own."
"Look, I didn't even hit you that hard," Jack said, a hint of apology in his voice.
"If you really cared you would have told me it was coming," Jim coughed. "But no, you had do a dirty trick, haul off and sink your fist into my gut!"
"I 'didn't' sink my fist into your gut. Geesh, if I wanted to hurt you I would have taken a running start!"
'Wanted'. That's the word that rang like chimes in Jim's ears. Rubbing his tummy, Jim says, "So you didn't really mean to hurt me then?"
Perhaps seeing things the way Jim saw them, Jack smiled a little. Stepping forwards the few inches to Jim's bod, he raised his arms, same time placing his cowboy lips on Jim's face. After lingering awhile, both giving and taking, Jack backs off, saying, "There. Does that make it like I really wanted to hurt you?"
With a giddy smile, Jim says, "Did it make you hard?"
"Does this look like I'm hard?" Jack backs up, putting his crotch on display.
"It's tough to tell Jack. You look big when you're soft," Jim replied.
"C'mon. My stomach's rumbling."
As they rode in Jim's alternate vehicle, his other 4x4, the one he didn't take to the city, they chatted about everything from family, to friends, work and other assorted details.
"Maybe this weekend we can take advantage of your 'vacation' and move you out to my place."
"Move?" Jim questioned Jack.
"Sure. You don't think I'm going to ride down to Brooklyn everytime I feel like warming up my cock, do you?"
"You mean you want me to like.... move in with you?"
Smartly, Jack replies, "Why? You like paying tons of money renting a room at some old lady's house?"
Joking, Jim replies, "I suppose it would be different renting from an old man than an old lady!"
"Hmm," Jack kids, "maybe we can go out back tomorrow and I can show you how that whipping post works!"
Smiling, Jim left it as a joke, but on the seat, between his legs he felt something yearning, wanting to check it out.
"Heeeere we are!"
"The Opera Cafe? But I thought...." Sitting there in the truck, head bent to peer out of the windshield, Jim figured maybe they would be heading towards some bar and grill, one of Jack's leather hangouts.
Getting out of the truck, Jack asks, "You coming?"
"I go where you lead!" Jim replied.
"Oh! I almost forgot," Jack snapped his fingers, his key fob reopening his door, lights flickering then dead.
"A jacket?"
"Right," Jack replied, tossing one over to Jim once he took them from his stash behind the seat.
Jim was all eyes, gazing around at the elegance of the place from the time they entered the foyer, to the little white stand the maitre'd stood at.
"Jack, how are you doing?" A guy in his mid thirties, Irish seemingly, greets.
"Good Lonny. And how's the little man at home?" Jack asks.
As Lonny replies in the positive of his mate, Jack can't help but notice him checking out Jim.
Softly Jack tells him, "Forget it Lonny. I know how you love your bears, but this one is taken!"
"So?" Lonny replies, his hand shaking Jim's hand. "Whatever happened to 'sharing'?"
Even though he liked the seriousness of Jack saying stuff like moving in together, Jim felt a little disappointment when Jack replied, "Not with this boy, Lonny."
Turning his attention from checking out Jim, Lonny replies to Jack, "Oh really? Don't tell me you've decided to take yourself a slaveboy and settle down?"
"I'll tell you about it sometime Lonny. Got any 'choice' seats left?"
Jack felt like laughing out loud, the way Lonny conducted himself ushering him and Jim towards one of the tables flanking the stage area of the dinner theater. After sitting, Jack cued Lonny into bending over so Jack could whisper something in his ear.
"What did you say to him?" Jim asked as he dropped the linen napkin into his lap.
In a coy manner, Jack replied, "You mean to tell me you don't see the reason he had three menus in his hand?"
"Really?" Jim asked, getting the reason behind Jack's meaning.
Recollecting his thoughts, Jack says, "I'm not the only one who likes to play with 'beefy' guys!"
Even though the place was swanky as all hell, Jim did take notice of about ninety-five percent of the patrons being male.
"So, what are you ordering?"
Jim was kind of embarrassed to admit he wasn't sure.
All too keen on Jim's perception, aside from the menu, Jack says, "Sometimes it's tough for me to figure out what to order, with all the distractions!"
Leaning in, Jim lowers his menu to say, "Yeah, there's like so many hot guys here."
Jack retorts, "Wait til you see the show!"
With it known Jim wasn't making a decision about ordering either the prime rib of beef or salmon, he ventured to make comment, "Some of these guys look like they're rolling in the dough, Jack."
"They better be," Jack smiled as he dropped the subtle hint.
As his plan, Jim sat there looking with a perplexing look.
"Check out the menu?"
Slowly, Jim's mouth rounded out, opening wider, a look of almost fright on his face, finally rendering, "OMG!"
"So, what'll you have, Jim?"
Coming somewhat to his senses Jim replies, "A glass of water!"
Laughing out loud, Jack tells him, "Don't worry about the prices. Dinner's on me."
"On you? What're you made of money too? They want fifteen fucking bucks for a bowl of soup!"
With the widest grin Jack responds, "Well you don't think guys are going to stand up on that stage and strip for nothing, do you?"
"Guys stripping?" Jim questioned Jack, the dollar signs slowly siphoning from his brain.
"Yup." Then nonchalantly as he peruses his menu, Jack says, "And if we spot a couple of hot guys in the show, maybe we'll take them home to play with!"
"You can do that?"
"For the right price. It's not like I haven't taken home some cute boytoy before," Jack enlightened Jim.
"Some cute boytoy? You mean to play with like you want to play with me?" Jim probed along the bdsm vein.
Indirectly answering, Jack says, "And keep your eyes peeled, Jim. If you spot some hotshot 'master', we could both have a good time tonight!"
"Master? For me?"
"Sure. We could both mingle in the same scene or maybe your fantasy master might have some ideas of his own."
Something didn't click right with Jim and his demeanor showed it off.
"It doesn't turn you on, Jim?"
"What would turn me on is if 'you' were the master playing with me tonight, Jack."
It's something Jack would have to get used to. On any given night he wined and dined at 'The Opera House', he might go home with one of two boys who shared the same degree of fantasy play; Jack the owner and the boys wanting to be owned. After voicing his past history about his experiences of good friendship with Lonny, which got him the best vantage point in the house, a nominal fee paid out at the end of the night for a long evening of sex and bdsm, he concluded with, "So, as you see it's become a force of habit. A habit I'll need to break now that you and me... now that we have this thing starting up."
Smiling, Jim admitted to himself coming up to live here in Westchester would mean a totally different style of living. His first concern was work, saying, "It'll probably take me hours to commute to the Coffee Bean... and the dimes and quarters I make will probably get eaten up by commuting expenses."
"We'll have to work on that Jim. There's plenty of job opportunities here in the area for a man with your expertise, if that's what you want to pursue?"
"It's the only thing I know how to do."
Their conversation then led into the reasons Jim hadn't made the transition from high school to college, instead of a fulltime career in the food industry. Again, Jack put their conversation on hold when the lights dimmed. "Why don't you swing your chair around this way, Jim? Gives you a better view of the stage."
Not arguing, Jim followed through. The only regret he had, his eyes didn't have a clear path to where Lonny Fagin attended patrons entering the cafe.
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©2008 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.