(End of Older and Younger 3.
P.S. Don't hesitate to let me know if you like the stories or not. Since I get so much money for writing them--grin--your comments are all I get...)
P.S. No sex in this story. Next one will, though, I promise!
"The head librarian called me into her office.
She tried not to grimace at me. I know she cares about me. She saved my life, even if I still wish she hadn't.
"Mark", she says. "I hope you'll accept a temporary assignment. The University has received an incredible donation for our library that we can use and even exhibit to make money for the library. However the person who deeded us the collection has died and his will is in litigation from both his father and son. The collection is in your area of expertise. And, I hate to say this, but if we get this collection this library might be able to thrive despite no government funding through showing parts of the collection, well advertised."
Oh holy crap. While I don't need my job I do love this library. And it reminds me so much of Marc. Oh crap again. I'm trying to learn how to be religious. After God deprived me of Marc, though...
Look, I'll fuck this up, I know. I hate rich people. I hate how they feel so entitled. But I owe a try to the head librarian.
I glanced at her with a true smile, which she saw. ÔI'll try my hardest', I said.
ÔI'm sure you will', she replied."
So, here I was flying to West Texas, of all places, to talk to people I've never met and try to convince a granddad and grandson to get along well enough so that the library I love could have the collection that would assure it's future long after I would be gone.
I had stared at the cowboy hats and boots in Dallas at DFW when I changed planes there. I really never thought grown men wore cowboy hats and boots, except at a costume party or maybe at a gay bar (although Marc and I hadn't gone to those very often, I had seen them there). However, seeing some good-looking men in suits wearing those hats and boots, made me start to see things differently! Grin.
I hadn't traveled since Marc's death two years ago. I hadn't done anything but work and exist, live in his house, try to sleep in his bed, and try to feel him still with me.
On reflection, I started to wonder if the head librarian wasn't wanting me to take this trip to force me to start me to live again. Wouldn't put it past her... Well, we'll see. However, the fact that I was noticing other guys in a sexual way is probably a good sign. Maybe I will finally start to heal.
We landed at the Midland/Odessa airport (why would someone name a place in West Texas after a Black Sea seaport?). I looked around as I got off the puddle jumper plane. Flat. Really, really, flat... Not bad, just geographically challenged.
When I looked around the airport, everyone else looked like they belonged here. I didn't see any tourists. I did see more suits and cowboy hats and boots though. And I did see some money, based upon some of those suits, too. If I wasn't mistaken some of those suits were Italian or British, maybe Hong Kong. French? Not in West Texas! Grin.
I had read that this was the center of big oil in this part of world. Looked like it.
I had been booked downtown at the Hilton. And the fact that the library was willing to pay for that sobered me up a bit. I really did have a job to do. After checking in, I phoned the house where the Granddad and Grandson both lived. Neither one of them (but obviously some kind of servant?) picked up the phone on the second ring. With an identifiable Mexican accent, he told me that there would be a car sent for me in an hour, and please to wait in the lobby then for it and that the family would be very pleased to receive me.
Ok. Time to go to work. I dressed in a casual suit and finally decided to wear a tie. Wish I had had cowboy boots and a hat, though. Grin. I went down to the lobby to wait.
To the minute, the car arrived. It was a newish SUV, but not brand-new. As soon as I heard his voice I knew it the same person who answered the phone was also the driver. OK... What does that mean about the finances of the family? And I had to admit that the driver was a pretty attractive guy. Looked to be in his 20s (30s?). Good shape, good features. Not quite my height, but 5'11 for sure. Maybe some serious muscle, too?
I saw him checking me out just as I was him. Hmm...
After driving for nearly an hour (gee, the driver must have left as soon as I hung up!) we were out of town and in an area of what must be called ranches in this part of the world. The driver (Jorge, as he told me when we tried to chit chat) turned into one of the "driveways" off the highway and drove us down a dusty road until we got to a pretty impressively large ranch house (sorry for the pun).
He pulled up in front of the house, opened my door and the main door of the house.
After the heat and fierce sun outside, the cool of the house and its darkness were very appealing. I looked around. Definitely Mexican-influenced in the style and decor of the house. Actually pretty attractive, I had to admit.
Jorge asked me to wait in the "sal—n" while the family arrived.
I remained standing and admired the beauty of this well decorated, but comfortable room. Definitely nothing like Marc's house with its Victorian going on!
After a very short time, I could hear two men approaching the salon. No voices. Just footsteps on the tiled floor, coming closer...
When they both tried to enter the room at the same time, I thought I heard some kind of scuffle. Surely not...
Almost immediately two men entered the room, breathing a bit hard, and slightly mussed up. I walked over to them and shook their hands and we sized each other up. All of us were the same height, so easy to size each other up! And what they had to offer...!
Wow! It was all I could do to not salivate. And please don't forget I hadn't had any kind of sex in two years!
Both of these men were dressed in tight jeans, cowboy boots, and super form-fitting dress shirts opened at least two buttons. The older man had truly classic facial features. His full head of white hair was framed by his dark eyebrows and chiseled face and chin. His jeans showed off a very tight ass, full crotch, and long legs. His broad shoulders were enhanced by the light dusting of white chest hair peeking out of his shirt...His chest was not huge but it was clear this man had real pecs from working and not working out. This man, in fact, looked like a retired rodeo performer who could still get those "doggies" down!
If that weren't enough, Junior could also be a male model. He was darker in all ways. Skin, hair, although no chest hair... While Granddad had Clint Eastwood blues, Junior had warm brown eyes. You could see his Granddad's heritage in every bit of the rest of his body, though. And yes, Junior had a gym body, too. Oh wow, again.
I knew I couldn't be in some kind of gay fantasy though. Both these guys were likely straight. And I had to do a job. I took the initiative and introduced myself.
"I'm Mark Hamilton from the University of (name deleted). I'm here on behalf of the library at the University. I've been told that your father (pointing) and your son (pointing) has left the library a legacy that would ensure the future of this library forever. Since your father was a student and alumnus of X Univ. it doesn't seem to me that this would be an unreasonable bequest. So, I'm here to find out what the library needs to know about why you both are fighting this bequest.
I didn't expect the violence that ensued.
Both of the men got up and started to threaten each other. I heard insults about "your mother" and you "fucking racist asshole". Both of these men seemed ready to pound each other to the ground! And since either one of them could easily hurt the other, I was completely taken aback.
I felt obliged to step between the two of them. And to be frank I'm not sure I could have kept them apart if they had really wanted to hurt each other. At this point I probably weighed less than Junior and Senior had whipcord muscles from working his whole life I'll never have.
I pushed them both down to their seats, though, and they seemed, oddly, to be relieved. I said, "I'm sorry, I don't understand what is going on here. I thought I had said something simple but it made you guys go crazy! What the fuck is going on here?" I regretted my curse word as soon as I said it, but no going back. Sigh.
They both looked totally startled at my use of the "f" word. Then they both had a half smile. Ok. So far, so good...
They actually looked at each other. Good again.
Junior started. "Mi padre se cas— con una mujer mejicana y mi abuelo no pudo amarla y nada de mi padre por eso. Entonces es un racista y Yanqu' y Puritano incre'ble. No ama a m' tampoco. QuŽ cabr—n."
Ok. I took Latin in high school and Univ. figuring it would be a good thing. Later on it did help with some of the library work. But a modern language? I'm out of my depth again. I'm American. I know the old joke about "what is someone who only speaks one language?" (drum roll) Ð"An American"! Anyway, I'm monolingual. I actually could understand a few words of his Spanish from my Latin. Not enough though. My turn again...
"I'm sorry. I don't speak Spanish. I studied Latin."
The granddad said, "You're Catholic then?"
"No", I said, "not Catholic. I'm just a librarian."
They both bristled at this. Why? I guess I spoke out loud.
Junior answered. "Never speak little of yourself when you are working at a job that is important and helps others!" Senior nodded.
So they like librarians or libraries?
Ok, I sort of got that. But I'm now admitting I'm a bit jetlagged. I don't know what the fuck is going on here. I'm seriously in lust with both of these men and a bit weirded out by that. But I know that is going nowhere. And I feel like I've been dropped into some kind of soap opera with Mexican overtones. Did the TV program "Dallas" ever have those? Guess not. But I do feel like I'm on "Dallas" (or some kind of telenovela from Hispanic TV). As an aside, no one on Dallas could hold a candle to either of these two men.
I could tell it was going to be suppertime soon. I wasn't sure I wanted to be here then. And I realized that I didn't actually know the first names of either of these hot men.
I finally asked them if I could call them by their first names instead of Mr. Jones since that was confusing to all of us.
Both of them answered me by saying, "I am Charles". Then they glared at each other again. OK. Charles Jones. How nondescript could you be? And both Charles...? No way.
I looked at them again and said, "I'm sorry, you have to have different names." To the Granddad I said, "You're Chaz." To the grandson I said, "You're Chuck. And can you get Jorge to drive me back to the hotel? I promise to be here early tomorrow, but am jetlagged."
They both looked immediately contrite which made them even hotter and more adorable. Damn. Cold shower before bedtime...
And Jorge driving me back didn't help either. What was it about these guys, all three of them?
Ok. I admit to rubbing one out in the evening and in the morning both. I was on a job! I had to try to think with my brain and not my cock! And the fact that I had to do that just shows way too much about me! Grin?
Sex in the next chapter?!?