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 69 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"This is a really nice place you have here," Neil says to Pablo.
"What'd you say?" Pablo yells from the doorway jon, halfway in, halfway out, one hand affixed to his cock as it squirts into the toilet bowl.
"Nothing," Neil replies as he reclines in the queen-sized bed, hands parked behind his head, taking in the sights of the spacious bedroom facade.
Entering the room, Pablo asks, "Comfortable?"
"More than you think."
"Oh? How's that go Neil?"
With a deep sigh of relief, he tells, "Freedom from the grips of Uncle Norman or more to the point, `Master Norman'!"
Lying down beside Neil, Pablo lays his smooth bod half on Neil's. He grazes Neil's abs, then up to his pecs, toying with the small patch of brown hair circling Neil's right nip. "If you want to talk about it... I didn't bring it up last night because... because you said you hadn't had nice' sex with a guy and... I liked being' with you last night, Neil. But if you want to talk about how you got those stripes on your back, you can."
"Well.. okay. But get comfortable because it's a long story."
Smiling, Pablo takes Neil's hand and places it on his crotch. "Go ahead. I'm comfortable!"
Before Neil begins his tale of youth and it's drawbacks with family problems, drugs, drinking and getting arrested he feels up Pablo's soft, warm spot and lets his hand rest in the balance.
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"So Scotty and Michael can have this room," Kyle stands at the entrance to one of the bedrooms, "and.... gee, what happened to everybody?"
"What do you mean?"
"It seems like we had so many guys in our life and now... Carlos is so busy between the store and music school, we don't see Jarrett and Jason anymore with them taking up residence at the Waldorf."
Alex adds, "Yeah. And with Dominic and Devon in New Jersey... Hey, what about Vince? He's still staying with us, isn't he?"
Kyle had a grin on his face.
"What haven't you told me?"
"Desmond called me today. He said he and Vince are having a `great' time. He said don't worry about seeing Vince for at least a week."
"That horny devil!" Alex says of him.
"Yeah. `Bout time he got himself a hot guy, huh?"
But they were interrupted, "Hey guys? I talked to Uncle Swif and he says whatever is here stays put."
"So that means the place comes furnished?" Kyle reckons.
"Yep." Then Ellis bestows upon them, "including me!"
Alex and Kyle look at each other.
The happy attitude draining from Ellis' face, he renders, "Unless it would be an imposition? I kind of was keeping the furniture company until Uncle Swif found some boarders." While Kyle was thinking it over, Ellis pleads his case, "I didn't really want to take charity from Uncle Swif, but with pulling a load of courses at NYU, I really can't afford the time other than a few hours manning the security door here and... well rent prices in Manhattan are kind of steep?"
"It's okay, Ellis," Kyle replies. "You can stay here. Stay in the room you were using when we weren't here, okay?"
"You mean it? I can have the loft?"
It took only a few seconds for Kyle and Alex to straighten `matters' out. Still, Ellis was grateful to have one of the rooms underneath the loft.
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From the gut workover, Vince ached and was half out of it, but still he felt hands working on' his bod, his shirt ripped down the middle and then pulled back over his shoulders, removed. A pair of hands worked at his belt while he felt one sneaker, then the other taken off, his socks peeled from his feet, picking up the cool air of the room. He felt pleasure, but was in too much pain to respond, after his pants had been removed, a hand engaged in feeling up his cock and balls. Nice' he heard one of the guys who worked him over, say.
He then heard a voice order, "Get him up!"
Slowly Vince was brought to his feet, having trouble steadying himself.
"Gentle, boys," came the comment when he was stood on his feet.
Four muscled arms kept him from losing his balance and falling on his face. His gut ached, but right now he tried focusing on what was said to him.
"Just like I figured," the bearded guy said, this time feeling up Vince's pecs without the shirt.
He tried to hold back any emotion, but Vince moaned "Ohhhhhhhh," when both his nips were touched, lightly massaged with fingers and thumbs.
"Yeah," the beard' said, "we'll be taking care of these along with the rest of the apparatus'!"
He squirmed around best he could when he heard `the boss', as one of the thugs addressed the bearded dude, say, "Haul his ass over to the table."
As Vince was walked, not without resistance, to the other side of the room, he noticed the boss' wearing different clothing than when he was delivered', his outfit that of leather. His pants were all black and from what he could see, silver rivets flanked an outlining of his crotch. He wore a multi-piece harness over his chest and stomach. But when he saw a large piece of furniture, an oversized table, padded in leather, restraints at each corner, he started to panic. Playing passed out', he opened one eye and spotted a hallway with light streaming from it. Thinking it his last chance, he surprised his agressors and pushed them away from his sides and bolted for the hallway. He was in luck! The hallway led to a suite of offices. At the end of the hallway he spotted a desk, a young guy sitting at it. He ran right past him and through the door. But then he realized, "Oh shit!" It wasn't an exit, but a utility closet. Double shit'
rang through his mind when arms began to wrestle with him. Outside the closet he faced the `beard' once more.
The young dude at the desk looked up when the `beard' said to him, "Jason, put all my appointments for the day on hold." The whole time he stared Vince in the eyes. "In fact rearrange them for tomorrow."
"You better let me go," Vince threatened. "I've got friends in high places."
The `beard' responded jovially, "Yeah? So do I. Hey, maybe we both got the same friends!" He added laughter.
In the meantime, Vince was forcefully escorted back to the darkened area, composed of dreary surroundings, a sling, a leather piece hanging from four chains, an X' made of crossbeams of wood, shackles at each end of a beam and then before him the dreaded table', padded with leather.
"Wouldn't you prefer the sling, sir?" Vince heard the `tattoo' ask.
"You're paid to take orders, not question them," the `beard' directed at him.
Vince struggled but the gut workover left him too weak, the bulging biceps of the thugs keeping his arms in bondage, the tattoo-dude working the leather cuffs around wrists and ankles, the other thug keeping Vince's bod from struggling free. In no time his arms and legs were bound eagle-spread to the cushy leather table, legs spread so far he felt very `vulnerable' in the crotch area, the coolness of the room flooding in as if somebody left the freezer door open.
"Now," the beard said, his words meant to add a `chill' to Vince's mental status, "so many places to start."
Vince heard zippers opening. Switching his head to his right he tried picking it up, looking over his arm pinned to the table, looking at two heavy-set men with hands whipping out their meat.
"Not this time boys," the `beard' said. "No," he grazed his hand over Vince's hairy front, "this one is for me and me only."
Hearing whimpers of disappointment Vince can't say he was totally relaxed with the beard's' orders. He wasn't out of the woods yet from a dick' being used on his virgin ass.
"Now scram," came the nonchalant order dictated to the two zipping up.
"Oh c'mon boss," the tattoo made one last effort to soothe his hard thruster.
Walking over to him, the bearded boss slapped the thug across the mouth, "I'm not paying you for any of your lip."
"Yes sir," the `tattoo' backed down.
Then turning to Vince's splayed bod on the table, "Now scram!"
With the two in retreat, Vince felt somewhat relieved. At least he wasn't going to be rammed up the ass by the two pogo sticks, but wasn't totally relaxed, an understatement, being approached by the number one man. Especially he didn't cater to the sight of the beard' uncoupling a multi-frond gathering of leather pieces, from the side of his evil-looking' outfit.
"Such a nice bod," the beard' pronounced upon Vince, once again feeling up his stomach. Much like Vince, the beard' seemingly not too distant in age from his, sort of matched Vince's hair patterns, dark fur covering pecs and abs, a deeper trail embedded from midchest to navel and then a thicker trail leading to hairy pubes, the `beard's' hand tracing lines up to pecs, down abs, cutting through the middle as if dividing them in half, a departure, dipping his finger into Vince's navel and then following through with his travels, ending with wrapping his hand around Vince's now aroused shaft. "I knew I could get something more out of you."
"You'll get nothing from me!" Vince said arrogantly.
But the beard' smiled when a stroke of his hand brought Vince's 9.5c into a more rigid position. "Is that so?" Then the unthinkable happened. Here this tough-willed dom-top bent over and licked' the bead of precum which formed at the slit. "Yeah," he comments as his hand grazes up Vince's stomach, like his abs trail is leading a hand to his pecs. "See? Even you straight boys have a weaknesses for a hot man-to-man blow job!"
`Straight?' was Vince's silent reaction. He didn't know what was going on, but kept what he knew of himself, to himself. Of course he wasn't discounting the fact, a tongue washing over the top of his prick-head felt overly, awesomely-good, but foremost were the thoughts of what the cards held for his current welfare.
"Not bad!" the `beard' comments.
Vince's attention shot to the multi-tailed leather implement in the `beard's' hand as he waved it over Vince's bod. He couldn't repair his thoughts this time, couldn't fool his aggressor for a moment when the leather strands gently coursed over his bod, mingling with every fiber of fur, from pec to pec, down his stomach, then softly massaging his whole pubic area. He dreaded the worst when his captor stopped.
"Now let's see what we get?" came the evil voice, a hint of a giggle deep in his throat.
Most of Vince's concern changed from the pleasure of the flogger lightly floating over his frontal region, to the withdrawn implement of harsh body-massaging. "What're you gonna do?"
A cruel smile grew on the `beard'.
Vince prepared for the worst when he lifted it above his head. He wasn't prepared to feel the impending strike, the flogger lifted way above his pubes.
"However...."
This totally psyched him out, the `beard' dropping the flogger, it falling out of his hand. Vince hearing it drop on the floor.
Instead, the beard' bent over. Standing on Vince's right, his mouth engulfed' Vince, lips pursed to replicate an asshole, moving up and then down Vince's hardening shaft. It was too much for him as one hand gently juggled his balls, the beard's other hand traveling up his stomach, singling out his left nip and gently mashing it. He wanted to fight the feeling, but his bod was doing its own thing, the pleasure from his nip shooting down to his crotch. A hand massaging his nuts didn't help to quell the feeling of his pulsing cock. It was a definite he couldn't control his emotions, the lip-massage of his now fully-masted shaft adding fuel to his sexual desire as he arched his back and let out a terrific moan. Then everything stopped, Vince letting out a whimper.
He feared the worst when the `beard' said, "See? Even you straight boys love having a warm man's mouth suck your tender meat!" Then he took it to the next level.
He cocked his head up, his chin resting on his hairy chest as he watched the beard' unsnap his leather pants. He thought for sure now he was fucked', literally in the near future, like a minute away from having his virgin ass penetrated. It never occured to him his ankles still stayed secured to the table as the `beard' knelt on one side and hitched his other leg over as if mounting a stallion. His chin pressed into his chest viewing the hairy crotch with low-hanging, smooth balls, a shiny spot at the tip of the cock traveling up his bod with every knee-step of his aggressor.
"Like what you see?"
Vince wasn't ready to give in even though his churning balls were telling him the opposite. "Fuck you! You're insane!"
"You're right!" He replied to Vince. "And soon we'll both be!"
It phased Vince out, his thoughts of the impending fuck and now the view, a drooling cock sitting midway up his hairy stomach. Then, from behind the `beard's' back he could only vision, because he couldn't see, the hand on his cock being directed at a willing ass, which totally threw his idea of how this all was going to go, out the window!
"Yeah," the `beard' informed Vince, "soon we'll both be one."
Since it was thought he was `straight', Vince figured this of importance, so he tried struggling and lodged complaint, "Get your fuckin' faggot ass offa me!" This time, instead of Vince seeing the evil grin followed by the devious laughter, a seriousness came over the man sitting with his ass over his pubes, cock and smooth balls dangling over his abs, two hands now perched on his pecs, meant to steady the balance of the man on top of him and not to this time pleasure with nip-tugging.
"Yeah!" the `beard' gasped, closing his eyes.
For Vince, under other circumstances this could spell out a most pleasurable experience. He didn't know what this `straight' idea played into all of this, but he figured he would play it out. "Ewwwwwwe! You're fuckin' gross, you know it?"
Same time, the `beard' voiced his own pleasurable opinion when he felt Vince's shaft pierce his own ass chamber, pressing out with his spincter to accept Vince's hard cock. "Oh yeah... oh yeah...." the beard exclaimed as his ass sunk downwards.
It didn't dawn on Vince, the last few minutes of being in pleasure, his predicament, until the warm ass completed it's descent, sitting completely on his pubes, his 9.5c totally up to his balls in ass.
"I don't know about you," the `beard' opinioned himself, "but I feel sooooooo fulfilled!"
The return of the humor, all along a ploy to make Vince think something other than himself was going to be put in the position of penetrator', partially shook him back into reality. He looked towards the top of the table best he could, seeing as well as feeling his wrists tugging at the leather restraints around his wrists. But he couldn't escape what was happening to him, the beard's' ass lifting off him, hands gliding up to his pits, up his arms as the beard' leaned over. OMG!' Vince thought, thinking this guy's face was coming in for a landing. Was he...' Vince's head hadn't the ability to move too much so there wasn't much he could do as the beard's' beard began rubbing back and forth on his own face. Still, it didn't seem all too without pleasure, the tip of his cock still in contact with ass. He didn't know what to totally think as the soft follicles played havoc with his emotions, torn between
danger and desire. Vince couldn't believe he was being held in captivity, yet the pleasure center of his brain was dictating a situation oh so different. Still he kept up the straight' facade, turning his face to the side, anything to keep the beard' from scraping over his face.
"How about I release you from this table and you fuck me properly?"
In return, Vince still felt the soreness of his gut, "How about you release me and I punch your lights out, faggot!"
It spoiled the moment. Detecting hostility, the beard' replies, "Oh what a shame. We could have made beautiful music together." Instead the moment had come and gone, him getting off' Vince's cock, off the table. "Yeah," the `beard' said, grazing his hand over Vince's bod, ending with slowly stroking his ass-wet cock a few times, "we could've had something nice going...but.." he bent over and picked up the flogger, "since you don't see things my way....."
Quickly Vince changed his tune, "Um wait a minute now. I suddenly have the urge to want to fuck?"
But the `beard' wasn't buying it. "It could've been real sweet, you and me... but after I take care of you, the boys'll be in to have some fun and then..." he sighed, "I suppose the fuck-fest will go on tonight as planned."
Bad thoughts flooded Vince's mind, the raising of the flogger over his aggressor's head was one thing, the immediate pain he would feel, which he wished he could have been disappointed, but wasn't. "Akkkkkkkkkkkk!" Vince cried out when the strands of leather pounced across his chest.
"Yeah, we're gonna take it nice and slow," the `beard' started in on his mental torture, after the physical sting crisscrossed Vince's hairy chest, a hand massaging the redness.
Three more followed, first one across his pecs, second midway between chest and stomach, third one right over the stomach. Then the weirdest thing, the `beard' stopped and stroked him.
Walking around the table, his torturer mumbled more words his hand tracing from Vince's ankle, up his hairy leg, a hand slipping between thigh and ball sacs, taking his sacs in hand and softly massaging them, a tighter squeeze followed by release, hand grabbing shaft and stroking up and down. In synchronicity, the flogger came down again across his midsection, right over his bellyhole.
"Akkkkkkkkkkk!" Vince cried out, but couldn't discount the fact the stroking of his cock was adding pleasure to his dismal condition.
"Yeah... soon you're gonna learn to love this. Soon this flogger is going to be your friend... along with this.." As with before his captor mounted the table, the evil laugh returning as he leaned back onto Vince's cock.
Vince just let his head fall back and stared at the wood-beamed ceiling, resigning to his fate, hoping in one way or another all this would be over or perhaps it was a nightmare and he would be waking up to the order in which he ruled his own life with freedom. About the nightmare, he didn't really believed this to be the case.
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"What do you hear about Asaf?" Chris Battani asked of his boyfriend.
Jacov replied, "He is doing good," even though Asaf still remained in the ICU.
"Do you think I can see him?"
"I think they said he is resting." Then to make Chris stray from the subject, "I think Swifty is going to see if you can get released a day early. Would you want to stay at my place for the time being, Chris?"
But Chris couldn't tear his attention away from his former childhood boyfriend, "Has anyone been able to find out about Asaf's friend?"
"I don't know," Yacov replied. "I think Raul is having a tough go at it, being nobody has any information."
"Raul?"
Yacov had to remind Chris, "The private detective assigned... well he's Kyle's friend and Kyle asked him a favor so now he's on the case."
And even though he should be uncaring about it, Chris asks, "And my father? Asaf's father?"
In his lifetime Yacov might have not liked a lot of things his father did or didn't do for him, but he still had a paternal connection, so informed Chris, "Raul told me not to tell you, him wanting to be the one, but they've taken them into custody. I think they are being arraigned tomorrow."
Right out Chris says, "I'm not pressing any charges."
"What?" Yacov was shocked out of his gourd. "Your father... yours and Asaf's beat you... sold you and Asaf... probably you would have wound up back in your own country Chris. Do you know what they do to gays in those countries?" Then Yacov cooled his high-wired self, "Even though you probably weren't going to..." He reverted back to not telling, as requested by Raul.
"What?" Chris provoked. "Tell me."
A cross between a smile and a smirk graced Yacov's face. He couldn't hide the remainder of the ordeal, "Truth is and it better not get back to Raul or else I'll be in trouble," even though he wouldn't face any demeanor for explaining to Chris, "seems you and Asaf weren't destined to head back to the Middle East. The ring Raul busted up was part of a much bigger practice of racketeering, selling of guys into sexual slavery." Then on a more personal note, Yacov placing his hand on the side of Chris' face, "I could have lost you forever." He bent down and kissed Chris on the cheek.
Chris had felt close to Yacov, but hadn't sensed it til now what Yacov really meant to him, but he put it as, "You really like me!"
"More than like, Chris. More like love... more like... I'm crazy about you Chris and I hope you feel the same."
"I do," he said not realizing exactly what had escaped his lips. Then tears came to his eyes as he confessed, "Except for Asaf I... I never felt so close to anyone."
Not only for himself, Yacov realizes and respects the bonds presented to him in Chris' emotion for himself as well as Asaf. "You two were really close, huh?"
"I know Asaf took a hard beating to protect us."
Yacov reckoned as he stroked Chris' dark, wavy hair, "The way I figure it, Chris, is it was a no win situation and I know I'm going to get it from Raul..."
"You can tell me. I won't mention a word of it to him?"
"I know," Yacov responded to Chris, his soft hand grazing Chris' cheek bone, playing down his neck, a light massage to his shoulder, "in the confession, the one your father gave to the police, it seems they, yours and Asaf's father, already knew you two had something going, but wanted.... needed to hear it from you or Asaf. Unfortunately they caught up with Asaf before you arrived home. So, he's the one who got it worse."
It then made tears well up in Chris' eyes once more, himself proclaiming, "I am sorry."
"For what?"
Chris tells him, "For acting like such a baby, instead of a man."
Bending over, placing half of his bod on Chris', Yacov tenderly tells him, "I can't picture anyone being more of a man than you Chris. I mean you stood up for you and Asaf to your father and his. What more could a man do?"
"But still, it didn't help. Poor Asaf."
It's then Raul enters the room, intruding on their private moment. By the way the two melded feelings he could tell all his secrets, meant to be kept from Chris, were out in the open. "So how are we doing this morning, Mr. Battani?"
First thing out of Chris' mouth, "Have you heard anything on Asaf?"
"He's coming along," Raul told them.
However, Chris had this uneasy feeling in his stomach, that Raul wasn't being totally candid. With a strong sense he confronted the Latino P.I., "Now tell me.. us... how is Asaf really faring?"
Slapping his hands on his thighs, Raul knew he couldn't contain the truth. "I was hoping to delay this until you were feeling stronger..."
"I `am' stronger." Then more adamantly, as he sat up, "Now you tell me about Asaf!"
"Easy," Yacov placed a hand on Chris' chest, coaxing him to lie back.
He did and when his back touched the bed Chris cried out in pain. But much more pressing was the fact his childhood lover still lay in the ICU and he wanted the facts.
"Asaf..." Raul hesitated, not wanting to be the bringer of bad news, "he's slipped into a coma. I'm sorry."
Chris placed his hand over his face and openly wept, Yacov taking up the burden of consoling him.
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"Um, before we get home, do you think we could swing by the hospital?" Alex asks of Kyle.
He shouldn't have put it so bluntly, Kyle taking Alex's request to heart, jumping the light and causing cars to screeching to a halt, oncoming from boths sides.
"Kyle would you take it the fuckin' easy?"
Then jamming on the brakes, "Oh. Sorry. Did I like give you a heart attack?"
"No," Alex lied, catching his breath. "I don't think you realize what you're doing when you're behind the wheel."
"And what's that supposed to mean Alex?"
Noticing Kyle dead-serious for a change, Alex rescinds his comment somewhat, "Um... don't you think New York City has enough crazy drivers?"
But Alex wasn't the only one sensing the heightened awareness. Morphing from his uptight behavior, Kyle states, "I'm sorry Alex. I didn't mean to snap back at you." Then when someone leans on the horn from behind, Kyle is quick to followup, "You fuckin' moron... keep your pants on!"
Turning it around Alex utilized the comment to avert anxiety amoungst them and after looking in the side mirror, "Hmm... I wonder what he looks like with his pants off!"
"Why don't you get out of the car and go invite him over so we can find out, Mr. Smarty?"
Alex went for the handle.
Kyle stopped him.
The drive to the hospital went according to Kyle's plan, purposefully stopping at every yellow light, each light pointing out to Alex he could be a rational New York City driver.
"That's nice," Alex remarked after the last light before the hospital, "you just missed the entrance to St. Vincent's parking?"
"Oh shit!" Kyle took it lightly. After waiting for a bus to zip by he made a `U' over the double line.
"You're back to your evil ways!"
For the two it wasn't the heated discussion of fifteen minutes ago, humor returning to their relationship. As they were entering, Raul made his exit.
"You look like you lost your best friend!" Alex communicated with the long, sad-faced detective.
"It didn't go over well when I had to inform Chris Battani of his friend's condition," Raul responded in a mildly depressing mood.
"How bad?" Alex asked.
Kyle looked for more detail, "He's not going to... you know?"
"I think I've delivered enough bad news for the day. Sorry guys, but I've got to get going."
But as Raul continues to his unmarked patrol car he spots some suspicious activity. "Hey buddy, what is it you think you're doing?"
Ready to see the guy run, instead he turns to Raul and tells him, "I've locked my keys in the car. Um, you won't happen to know how to use one of these things?" He holds up a wire hanger.
Approaching the driver's side of the strawberry blond's car, Raul bends over and quickly uprights himself, almost bowling the guy over. "Oh sorry." He realizes how close the guy was crouching over him.
"No problem. So you think this'll work?"
"Nada," Raul replies.
"Are you like a Hispanic?"
Right away Raul thinks this dude to be some kind of a kook! "You tell me, with a name like Raul Quintana?"
Taking it as an introduction the twenty-something dude holds out his hand, forcefully takes Raul's in his and energetically shakes it, saying, "Mine's Tab... Tab Lahkvi. Nice to meet you."
Sensing something right away, Raul asks, "Um, you're not from this neck of the woods are you?"
"My accent. It gives it away?" Tab replies, never leaving the energetic responsiveness behind.
Then noticing the attire, Raul asks, "You some kind of model or something?"
Looking down himself, Tab sees the reason, the Ecko jeans, Versaci shirt all covered up by an ordinary, casual Hugo Boss jacket, he clams up a bit and says, "My brother says I should not be talking like this to just anyone." But it was too late for Tab to coverup his excitement at meeting the five foot, nine inch tall Latino.
"You know if I wanted to I could have mugged you already?"
His thoughts confused by how his brother told him he should be acting in a big city and the mental aprodesiac Raul was giving off towards him, Tab sort of gets his thoughts twisted, "Do you want to go to my place? It's really my brother's apartment but he's at work?"
If Mr. Ordinary-NY-guy, Raul would have slapped the cuffs on him right then and there, but feeling the heat of the moment he would rather be wrestling Tab to the ground for entirely different reasons. Instead he went along with his words and not his original intention. Casually pinning Tab up against his vehicle, the twenty-nine year old detective took a long shot and pressed his bod in as well as his lips.
Breaking off, Tab exclaims, "Wow! My brother told me it was not impossible I could meet a man like this!"
"Your brother. What is he? Some kind of shrink?"
"Shrink? Oh no. He's not small at all!"
Raul wasn't sure how to take it, but redefined his assumption, "I meant is he a doctor? Psychologist maybe?"
Right to the point, Tab says, "He has an office on Park Ave. You know it?"
Seeing no danger in releasing personal information, Raul tells, "I better know it. A private investigator should know..."
"You're a cop? Oh my god! You're not going to arrest me are you?"
Smiling, Raul says, "How about we go back to my place instead of your brother's?" With assurance they would come back for Tab's vehicle, the two whisk out of the parking lot, the little blue light allowing them to zip around traffic. For Raul he couldn't wait for his tall stalk, just about busting out of his pants, to be taken care of!
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Copyright 2009 T. Chase McPhee
This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.
The more you stretch, the more you can fit in... 'spread' happiness! TCMcP.....