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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HoT FuN iN THe SuMMeRTiMe: HoT STuFF WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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Next morning the Shipman-Inc. parking lot began to fill up rather quickly. Those who were deemed the start-up crew, firing up computers and making report regarding how Shipman-Inc. stock fared the day before, printed out reports and other statistics. Secretaries got down to business after ditching their coffee cups in the garbage. Some before work chatter slowly dissapated to a few whispers. As the name went, they knew Shipman ran a tight ship and once they covered the responsibilities of their jobs, they could loosen up and head for the cafeteria for a `second breakfast'.
"Thomas, where's my new secretary?"
"Oh shit!" TJ said, hearing the billowing voice of fate through his glass and wood door. Immediately it came to mind his `date' with Cimon, which quickly entered and left his mind. Instead of pleasuring him for three hours, he should have been on his computer, accessing the Shipman-Inc. database, finding a replacement for Adam. He put on hold his balancing of hours til later.
"Did you hear me Thomas?" his father asks rather sternly, after inviting himself into TJ's office.
"Ah yeah and..." first thing which came to mind, regarding the secretary situation, was Adam's suggestion, "I have just the man for you!"
"You have somebody?" Shipman asks his son, a bit surprised. "Hmm." From past experiences he wound up waiting days until TJ could come up with appointing a person for a position.
TJ knew. It wouldn't be the first time his father questioned him with almost expentance of him goofing up, which he tried to avoid doing. "Yes, a young man from security, whom I felt his organization skills were being wasted."
Indignant, his face reflecting dread, Shipman asks, "Not Sam?"
Smiling, TJ replies, "No, not Sam. A new hiree, Kafry Walsh."
"Do I know him?"
Again, covering his ass regarding Sam really being the force behind hiring Kafry and not learning about it till after the fact, he didn't want to seem incompetent, so made like it was he, "Probably not. He hasn't been with the company long. He was hired for at least the summer." And then rattling off what he assumed, being Kafry seemed older than Adam, "A college student whom really needed a summer job to pay for college tuition, books and other expenses." Of course, not seeing Kafry's profile, he had no idea!
"I see." Then looking at his watch, his father asks, "Where is this Kafferee?"
TJ didn't correct his father on the pronunciation, instead delve back into the important matter, "Well I didn't inform him yet, being I couldn't catch him on the way out last night," he fibbed.
"You better get a hold of him quick. I know there are various meetings to attend today and I expect you to be at the board meeting?"
"Me?" TJ questioned his father, his hand to his chest signifying pertaining to himself.
"I think it's time you've begun taking hold of the reins of this company."
"Thank you," he stated, then alluded to, "I better go find your new secretary."
Catching the mumbled phrase, `This secretary better be sharp!' from his father, went right over his head, more overjoyed to say the least, about his father's decision to appoint him to the board of trustees.
"You're looking chipper as all hell!" It was Jonathan Treat, the elevator opening up to him on his way up to the third floor.
"Maybe because I have a reason to be?" TJ says, a smile on his face.
It came to mind, Jonathan thinking, "So you met someone after leaving Travis and I last night?"
"I did, but it's not why I'm on cloud nine."
"Oh?" Jonathan asks as the elevator doors close, sealing the pair in.
"I think I'm finally getting through to my father. He invited me to the board meeting today." And acting proudly, "I have a feeling my position is going to be up for grabs very soon!"
"Great. Congratulations TJ. Ready for some bad news?"
His attitude took a dive. "You're not resigning are you Jonathan?"
"Are you kidding TJ? Where else am I going to find a pushover job, working around a dozen hotties and receiving a salary almost as much as yours?"
"So, what's the bad news?"
Giving Jonathan his undivided attention, Jonathan reports, "Your butler is going to give you notice!"
"What? Not Travis? He can't!"
"Sorry to be the bringer of bad news, but I made him another offer he found irresistable to refuse."
"You don't make enough to hire a butler, Jonathan!" TJ replies.
"But it didn't take money to convince Travis we are made for each other." Stifling TJ, Jonathan swings past him, "Also, I happen to live closer to Nadeau College than you do!"
"I can't believe you are doing this to me Jonathan!"
"Don't take it so personal TJ. There's dozens of guys out there who would willing to work for such a `hot' man as yourself?"
And it's the way Jonathan left it, as he departed the elevator.
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"I had a great time last night," Adam says, after not being able to take his eyes off Kafry as he serpentines through traffic.
"Yes, but we need to be quick in the morning. I try to leave early so I don't have to weave like this."
Adam smiled, watching Kafry drive with his left hand on the wheel, the other hand with his palm flat, moving back and forth to suggest changing lanes so often.
"Cop up ahead," Adam drew his attention to seeing the word `police' painted on the side of a vehicle, the only really visible part of the patrol car showing where the billboard ended.
"Oh thank you so much," Kafry said, his hand moving to Adam's forearm.
"No problem," Adam replies, patting Kafry's hand with his, rubbing up and down the warm hand.
He didn't really need to slow, since the cop car pulled out way ahead of them and snagged another vehicle.
"Well -see that? I didn't even need to warn you," Adam suggests as they pass the citizen and police vehicles off the side.
Using it as a ploy, Kafry responds, "Still, it was so sweet of you to care enough to tell me?"
Modestly, Adam answers, "Yeah. I'll have to think up some other sweet stuff like this to get on your good side!"
"I like the sweet way you treat me while laying by my side last night." Kafry's hand rubbed Adam's arm, same place it's been residing since the cop alert.
Feeling the same, Adam smiled, however exit 67 was coming up fast and Kafry was still in the left lane. "Um, like our exit is... almost here?"
"You are a lifesaver!" Kafry once again awarded Adam.
His face bear a grin, thinking of this as one of Kafry's small gestures, his hand slapping him on the forearm, holding it for a moment and then returning it to the wheel, to congratulate Adam on saying something which kept his mind in sync with the roadway. But he kept his tongue about Kafry's driving skills, scaring him out of his gourd when he nosed his car in a space big enough for a motorcycle. He did mention, "You've got a lot of nerve, Kafry!"
And then Adam got another kick out of Kafry stressing, "They go so fast. They should slow down so I can fit in!" As they left route 79, Adam could only think about last night, about telling Kafry to slow down, wanting to make the time between being worked orally, to coming, last as long as possible!
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"Kafry in yet?"
Sam set aside some papers to address TJ, "Not until 9:30."
TJ detected something astray, so asks, "Having problems Sam?"
"Yeah. Didn't get laid last night." He went on to explain, "Figures, meeting a real young guy on Gay.com and he didn't show. Ever happen to you?"
Trying to think back over the years, trying to conjure up an incident in which his online trick never showed, "Can't think of one who didn't show."
Sam made excuse, "Oh well... that's because your young. Wait till `you' hit forty. Then you'll take any offer that's thrown at you! You'll see. First they chat you up, making the sex sound real good, telling of their 10-inch, beer can-sized dick, make a date and then break it!"
Placing his hand on Sam's shoulder, TJ consoles, "Sam, you have my sympathies."
Turning his head to the side, away from staring blankly at the forms in front of him, Sam puts on a quaint smile and replies, "I'd rather have your dick inside me!"
Normally, it would not be a problem for TJ. In the past, any offer would be obliged. Last night he had a great time with Cimon Xirouxaki and upon leaving, Cimon asked if he wanted to get together again. TJ acknowledged with a `yes', but it was Cimon who made him promise not to have sex with any other men. However, TJ was in a dilemma here. Versatile by nature, he knew Sam to provide a hot fuck, his ass tight as a cock ring. On rerun, he played over Cimon's last words, but also his lower region was dictating something which constituted as another wanting. Plus, TJ has known Sam since he was a kid, coming to work with his father and visiting with Sam whom was a few years younger at the time. He really did have feelings for the forty-one year old. "Y'know," he looks up at the clock on the wall, "if we hustle it up maybe we can do a quickie before the second shift hits the building?"
"Really?" Sam's eyes lit up. And true to what they both knew, "You and me haven't done me for a long time."
As they made their way to the executive lounge, all Sam could do is reminisce about the times TJ came to work with his father. It made TJ smile when Sam touched on the time when TJ was sixteen, how he had keyed the executive lounge door, walking in and finding Sam on his knees, servicing some secretary who no longer is with the company. He felt compelled to draw off Sam's historical account of him coming of age around the Shipman-Inc. surroundings, "I know. I look back at my first blow job as if it were yesterday. Do you remember it Sam?"
Standing in the lounge, door locked behind them, Sam pictures, "Yeah. Remember how scared you were?"
"Me scared? Who was the first one to strip off their clothes, Sam?"
"Oh. Right. I forgot."
And then TJ put himself into action, like the first time he and Sam were alone in the executive lounge, approaching Sam and, "You were so shy Sam I had to `help' you strip?"
Sam watched, often looking up at TJ, while hands traveled down his front, buttons undone one at a time. "You surprised me you know?"
"Oh? How's that go Sam?"
"Well, who would have thought a sixteen year old kid would know so much about sensually stripping an adult like me?"
"Oh," TJ got mischevious, "you mean doing stuff like this?"
"O-o-o-o-oh!" Sam burst out with emotion when TJ parted his shirt, cocked his head and began teeth-teasing his nip. "Oh fuck TJ... you're gonna put me over the edge with surprise actions like that!"
"Yeah, well if you want to get laid you better drop your pants and get your ass over the edge of that sink! We like don't have all day you know?"
A veteran at doing stuff in the executive lounge, TJ must've visited this one no less than a thousand times over the past six years, before and after being in his father's employ. It was all so mechanical, Sam's cock and balls pressed against the cold sink, TJ following close behind, a hand reaching out and pumping soap out of the dispenser, lubing his own cock, a finger inserted in Sam's ass crevice.
"O-o-oh! Whew!" Sam gasps at TJ's finger lubing inside and out.
"You haven't changed Sam. Same tight fuck!"
"I'll take that as a compliment," Sam replies. But it wasn't for a second he felt differently, feeling penetration to the hilt.
Good thing TJ had stripped down completely, what with the haste he pumped in and out of Sam's tight hole. With time as the essence, he sped through the hot fuck, a hot cock massage driving him on. As leverage he fastened both hands atop Sam's shoulders and plowed him with a fury. And on the verge of coming, preceded dropping his load with, "Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Oh fuck yeah!"
Even though the sink was cold, Sam's rod was hard and pulsing.
As for TJ, even though a special fuck, it being Sam's ass, he showed little emotion other than himself getting off. However, he wanted to be kind and said, "You're hot stuff Sam!"
"Really? Yout hink so?" Sam replied, knowing it was a put on, but grateful none the less.
When he pulled out and saw Sam turn around, his look at the guard's crotch, it made TJ lust for more. Bracing himself over the sink, he directs Sam, "Now you do me."
"What?" Sam replies. "But I thought you were...." he meant `top'.
"Yeah, well you thought wrong. Now if you want to get off I suggest you get to it?"
"Whatever you say TJ. You're the boss!" He edged closer to TJ's waiting ass.
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"Hmm, I wonder where Sam is? He's usually at his desk when I arrive," Kafry said, but dismissed the thought.
"He's probably getting coffee in the cafeteria," Adam said.
"Yeah." Not meant to put himself up' or Sam down', Kafry remarks, "I can't believe how sloppy the desk is." Turning to Adam he asks, "Wasn't this desk clean when we left last night?"
"Right," Adam agreed. "I saw you file away the last paper."
Behind them came the first words from another Shipman-Inc. employee, "Oh hello boys. How you feeling this lovely summer morning?"
Kafry and Adam exchanged glances before answering Sam. Kafry wondered if Adam thought like him, of Sam being overly chipper.
"We're doing fine," Adam relays.
And before anything else transpires, in walks TJ.
"Oh good you're here."
Adam wonders which of them, pointing his finger back and forth between himself and Kafry.
"Both of you, actually," TJ informs them. "In your new position as my assistant Adam, you will be required to accompany to the board meeting and take notes. And..." he turns to Kafry, "as part of your new responsibilities Kafry, you will be at my father's side."
It didn't hit Kafry, him asking, "For?"
He stuck out his hand, taking Kafry's and giving his welcoming speech, "Congratulations you have been appointed executive secretary to my father."
"Me? I dont' know anything about being a secretary," Kafry responds.
Adam is quick to say, "Ah, don't worry about it Kaf. If you know how to use a computer, it's as simple as... as... skateboarding!"
"Skateboarding? I don't know how to skateboard," Kafry replies. "You?" he puts to Adam.
"Uh yeah. I used to do a lot when I was a kid. I'm pretty good at it. Can," and Adam uses his hand to show loops, "do some pretty fancy moves."
TJ, wanting it to sound as simple as Adam is making it out to be, asks, "What sport are you good at Kafry?"
Shrugging his shoulders, Kafry replies, "None, but maybe I would like to try the skateboard?"
"Well when you do get the hang of it, this job will be as simple," TJ smooths it over."
"Um, begging your pardon," Sam swivels around in his chair and addresses, "if I might get a word in here, just what am I supposed to do when I want to take my breaks and lunch?"
TJ jokes, "You're getting too fat anyway Sam!"
Left at is, Sam still sitting there, TJ ushers Adam and Kafry out of the security office, an arm over each shoulder, beefing up their jobs with how exciting their positions will amount to.
Sam, in the meantime, reflects on the good side of TJ, rerunning though his mind TJ's words, of him being `hot stuff' when it came to TJ working his ass over!
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"This... I like this... who is responsible for this marvelous creation?" Henri Nadeau inquired in his French accent to the other panel of judges composed of the roster of students registered with Ketry Walsh for the summer painting class, Juan Alavrez, Christian Arsenault, Mathieu Desjardins, Mathieu's older sister by five minutes, Mimi Desjardins, Ivan Ivasaky, Martin Ouellet, Jill Perkins, Kyp Protopapadakis, Gayle Taylor, Denis Urbane, Hugo Vardoulakis.
"That would be my painting, sir," Denis owns up to the abstract concoction.
Of course Henri Nadeau, known for his brash approach at grooming new artists, especially when they didn't keep to subject and struck out with their own creavity, usually resulting in a painting more brilliant than he could ever conjure up, he followed up his sarcastic comment with, "Trash!" Then he put the painting's twenty-one year old artist on exhibition, "You come over here and stand in front of this... this piece of rubbish!"
Ketry knew his turn would come, but for now sensed such sadness for Denis. In his own opinion, Denis was one of the more talented artists enrolled in the summer class, more adept at taking images and juxtaposing them on a canvas to create something worth studying.
And Nadeau, French bred, sometimes communicated in faulty English as he began to tear into Denis, "What the fuck is this?"
Everyone in the class knew this was the beginning of the end for Denis' painting, which they all knew, like themselves, took many hours to think about and plan it's execution. Now it looked like Denis' execution, or rather his painting as Nadeau took up his favorite instrument of assessment, a pair of scissors. He opening them up and held them as a weapon. "I am totally disgusted with your work, Urbane!"
Before Nadeau could inflict a puncture on the canvas, Denis was there to defend his work.
"Oh shit!" Ketry called out when Nadeau, making his point, drove the scissor into Denis' arm! Pushing through the small crowd of art students, Ketry rushed to Denis's side as his legs gave way to him sitting on the floor. His back toppled the easel, it folding under the weight of his bod.
"I... I didn't mean to do it," Nadeau's temperament took a nose dive, turning into a sudden mass of worry.
"Somebody call 911!" Ketry shouted.
To class, Nadeau always dressed appropriately, as that of a French artist, beret and bandana around his neck. Gaining his whits about himself, he cast the scissors on the table and went at untying the bandana. "Allow me," he said more calmly. Not waiting for Ketry or anyone else's opinion, Nadeau went to wrap the bandana around Denis' arm.
"No! Nobody let that maniac around me!"
Ketry placed his hand on Denis' chest in a manner of which to send a feeling of calm. "I think he is trying to help you Denis." Seeing Denis still tensed up, Ketry looked around the room for something on which to lay Denis' head and not the rough canvas which reflected his painting, lying on the floor underneath him. Not finding a thing, Ketry began to unbutton his shirt, stripped it off, mashed it up into a bundle and created a pillow. He gently lifted Denis' head and placed it under it.
"There!" Nadeau replied to his tightly wound bandana around Denis' arm. "It should alleviate the bleeding some."
In the mean time others began to flow into the room, two other professors, curious students, followed by the dean and president of Nadeau School of the Fine Arts.
"Where's security?" Dean Collins inquired of anybody.
When nobody responded, the president of the college, Marcus Oppenheimer took charge, "C'mon. Everybody out!" He was herding the ten or so gatherers out, when security shows up.
Dean Collins demands, "Where the hell have you two been? We've got a crisis on our hands here!"
Dave McCracken and Phil Bartow saw themselves in. It didn't go unnoticed, Dean Collins seeing Phil's fly open. Knowing the two security guards, about the same twenty-five years he has been stationed at Nadeau, he didn't leave any doubt in his mind, whispering in Oppenheimer's ear, "I bet you I can guess what Dave and Phil have been up to!"
"Hmm," Marcus thought all of two seconds about. "Don't say anything now, but I want those two in my office when this is all over."
After finishing his statement to Dean, `Dean' happened to be Dean Collins' first name, the paramedics make their entrance.
"Make way please," One of the two, a burley bearesque type figure announces, two cases in each hand, hiked up so his huge biceps could keep them from touching the floor. "So, somebody fill me in here?" he says, immdiately kneeling down next to Ketry and opening one of the cases.
The other medical personnel, unlike the first, lanky, more or less moved Nadeau out of the picture as he opened a case and began working of Denis' arm while the other worked Denis' vitals. "Good idea to whoever the quick-thinker was," it was said of Nadeau's handiwork, which nobody followed through with naming names.
Along with the first barrage of bystanders, the other students were ushered out. Dean Collins confronts Ketry, "This means you, young man?"
But the first paramedic who entered, whom shared his name with Ketry, Rusty Handleman stands up for him, "No. He stays. At least somebody knows what's happened here."
True, when first on the scene, Rusty and his sidekick, Juan, Ketry is the one who began sharing information, since he was one of the eye witnesses.
"Very well," Dean Collins replied, an attitude as such he wasn't used to people going against his wishes. "I guess there's no sense getting in your way. We'll be outside in the hallway if you need further administrative assistance." Along with him, Oppenheimer and Nadeau accompanied him.
Recap, all who remained is Denis, by now his arm pretty well bandaged, Rusty adding some oxygen because Denis felt faint, Juan who kept vigil over Denis' wound and Ketry who sat in almost the same place on the floor where he deposited himself thirty minutes ago after stripping his shirt and placing it under Denis' head.
"Nice of you to give up your shirt," Rusty compliments Ketry, running his eyes over his bod, "to comfort your friend."
Humbly, Ketry explains, "Oh, Denis and I aren't really friends, though I feel like I've known him for awhile. He's new to Nadeau and this is the first class I've had with him.
Rusty conversed with Juan, then came back to Ketry, "You workout?"
If anything, Ketry `knew' his bod wasn't the type which looked like he hit the gym. Naturally he was slim, but he didn't have like a noticeable six-pack or anything. He smiled, replying, "Last time I saw the inside of a gym was in high school, but if what you're aiming at is trying to set yourself up to go out with me, you can just right out ask me!"
Juan giggled, replying, "You've got a live one there, Rusty!"
"Shut up Juan." Then after giving Juan a blustery piece of his mind, he sweetly turns to Ketry, "I was actually thinking of asking you if you wanted to get some lunch later."
Ketry was good at thinking. Good at interpeting things, even given the slightest clue. "Are you gay too Juan?"
"How did you know?" Juan asks, totally surprised.
Rusty turns to Juan, "You don't learn everything in school Juan, besides, the gift Ketry has here you `acquire'. Isn't that right Ketry?" he more or less pin-pointed where Ketry was coming from.
"Sure, but I wouldn't call it a gift."
"Trust me," Rusty replies, "you've got it. As for me? I chose a stupid way of..."
"I didn't think it so stupid," Ketry differed in opinion. "Or how else was I to form my opinion if you didn't drop hints as such, Rusty?"
All Rusty could do was smile.
"By the way," Ketry said outspoken and unabashed to ask, "are you into sex on the first date?"
Again, Juan opens up with, "He wouldn't have it any other way!"
"Juan!" Rusty blames, his upright on his knees position dictating it, "Just shut up and mind your own business?"
"But you `are' my business Rusty!"
"Yeah, yeah... right Juan."
Ketry seemed to think there was something special between the two and maybe if he played his cards right, he'd be able to inquire of Rusty.
Forgetting the current subject matter, Rusty says, "I guess we should get him ready for transport. Why don't you go outside and see if the ambulance is here, Juan?"
"You didn't come in one?" Ketry asks.
Now, with undivided attention, Rusty replies, "No. Usually we arrive in a truck. Preliminary, since sometimes an injured person doesn't require a trip to the hospital."
"Do you think Denis is `serious'?" Ketry meant his vitals.
"I think his arm is not so bad, though it needs attention we can't give it here, but as for the need for oxygen, I think he's sort of in a little shock. Who wouldn't be? I know if somebody stabbed me... well I probably would have pulled it out and driven myself to the hospital!"
Laughing, Ketry figured Rusty of a stronger nature. He didn't get the whole gist of Rusty's size until they both stood up. "You're a big man!"
"How do you mean that?" Rusty asks, pulling up his pants like they were sagging, but meaning something else!
"I meant `tall'?"
"Oh yeah. I knew that," Rusty covered for himself. "I'm six foot one. You?"
He could've probably guessed, instead of letting Ketry answer for himself, "A little under six feet."
It wasn't the proper place, but Rusty ached like hell to take Ketry in his arms, especially wanting to remove his shirt to do it, since Ketry wasn't wearing one.
"So, have you memorized me yet?"
"Huh?" Rusty questions.
"Me without a shirt?"
He almost said it, almost blurted out something like `how did you know?', his thoughts about cuddling shirtless with Ketry. "I think I have it almost down pat." He laughed.
He says of Rusty's v-neck shirt, "Not fair you get to look at the whole view and all I get is a sampling!"
"You think you'll get tired of looking at me if we spent the night together?" Rusty knew he was moving fast, but didn't think it anything Ketry couldn't handle.
"Do I get a closeup of your ass?"
"Only with your tongue and `not' your cock!"
"I suppose it would be the other way around for you Rusty?"
Rusty knew what Ketry meant, but it was more erotic to hear what Ketry had planned for later, so responded, "Why, whatever do you mean?"
And on the other hand, Ketry knew this was a cat and mouse game, so beefed up his answer, "Your hard shaft getting a feel for what lies in the crevice of my ass?"
`Sure," Rusty replies, "I love exploring caves!"
They probably could have gone on like this for several minutes, but Juan interrupted, "Our wheels are here!"
Behind him were two others who resembled Rusty's build and he knew them too, Ketry thought rather closely as he was introduced to them by Rusty, "Fellas, this is Ketry Walsh. Ketry, my good buddies, Terry McCheevers and Paul Bitters." And to dispose of beating around the bush, "Terry and Paul are more than partners in their business!"
Not opposed to more than one-on-one, Ketry asks, "Are you and Rusty very good friends?"
Knowing why Ketry has asked, Rusty replies, "Ketry here is a very nosy guy!"
Terry, seemingly the `alpha male', replies, "We have Rusty over for dinner at least once a week. You're welcome anytime too," he addresses Ketry.
"Let's see where our first date leads," Ketry replies.
"O-o-oh Rusty!" Paul comments. "Way to go!" he slaps Rusty on the stomach with the back of his hand.
"Shut up Paul!"
Joking, Terry says, "How dare you talk that way with my husbear!"
Now they were entering new territory, Ketry not too keen on the bear-cub subculture.
Not appropriate to get all mushy on the job, Terry settled for giving Paul's ass a small pinch, equivalent to a kiss of affection.
In no time, Terry and Paul had Denis affixed to a gurney, first almost floor level, then unfolded to waist height.
"I take it this is yours?" Rusty asks, holding Ketry's shirt by the collar, hooked on one finger.
"Hold it for me?"
"My pleasure!" Rusty was most obliged to help, holding it for Ketry to feed his hands into the sleeves. "Need help buttoning it up?"
"I don't think it would look good for either of us," Ketry replies. "But later I think I will need help getting out of it!"
Rusty knew Ketry thought likewise, the way he eyed up the front of Rusty's shirt.
"I have another class, then need to do some library work. I'll be free at four, if you want to stop by and pick me up?"
"Will do," Rusty accomodated Ketry before leaving.
Things didn't go as planned for Ketry. He was needed to have a statement taken, so accompanied a hot cop to the student center and over a soda, told it like it happened. After the formal business was taken care of they turned to things of a personal nature.
"Single?" Ketry asks.
"Married," the cop replied, reinforcing his statement, "to a woman!"
"Now I feel like a total idiot!" Ketry replies to the officer, whom upon their introduction learned his name to be Ken Guardino.
He didn't intend of making Ketry uncomfortable and it's not been many, maybe two people who he's shared this with and to smooth things out, "However, I have sort of had some fun with other guys over the years."
Softly, since Ken probably didn't want anyone to know, Ketry leans in saying, "You're bisexual?"
"I think," Ken replies.
Getting to the bottom of things, Ketry asks, "You like woman, right?"
"Right."
"And you like to do stuff with men?"
"Um. Yeah. I have," Ken replies, a bit reluctantly.
Right out, Ketry asks, "Do I turn you on?"
Ken smiles. "I tend to like young guys."
Rewording it, since Ketry thinks he's being obvious as all hell, "Would you want to go somewhere after we finish up this report?"
It's bad enough Rusty had wound him up, but Tony, about his height, dark hair, beige skin, goatee and probably not over thirty, was being termed in his mind as `hot stuff' and for sure his furnace was stoked and wanted Ken to help put out the fire!
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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.....