Owen

Owen

Chapter fifty-three

By Roy Reinikainen

Pale light from one of the town's few streetlights shone into the darkened room, imparting a mysterious . . . and sensuous air . . . to the four men. "We're headin' over to our place to have some fun. Why don't you guys join us and sew a few wild oats of your own," Jonah said, earlier, laughingly referring to one of Riley's stories.

Riley and Bailey had jumped at the idea, and were now sharing the room, already immersed in a kiss, accompanied by murmured words, groans, and an occasional sigh. Bailey sat, sprawled on the room's large armchair, his arms wrapped around Riley's waist, as Riley, whose arms were around Bailey's shoulders, rocked his hips back and forth, from where he knelt, astride his partner.

Even in the dim light, Jonah could see the hint of hair separating Riley's butt cheeks. Bailey's erection nestled between the two mounds of muscle, pointing upward, stimulated with each of Riley's movements.

Owen had followed them into the bedroom, but had stayed only a short while before leaving, most likely in search of Sam and Lucas.

Jonah wasn't sure how his brother would react to seeing him and Corey in a sexual situation. 'Hell,' Jonah thought, 'I don't know how I would feel, seeing Owen and the guys having sex!' So far, neither of them had witnessed the other in a sexual situation, other than the masturbation scene in the shower. This was something entirely different.

'I swear! Sometimes a guy'd think that I was older'n Owen!' He thought a moment, feeling guilty to be ignoring Corey's attentions. 'But . . . maybe I'm having Owen feel things he isn't actually feeling.' Jonah shook his head, doing his best to push his brother's anxieties and insecurities to the back of his mind.

'C'mon, Owen!' he wanted to shout. 'No matter who I ever have sex with, no matter who I call my lover, it is you who I will always love most!'

Corey ran his hands up and down Jonah's bare flanks, oblivious to the nearby men. "You are so sexy," he murmured, close to Jonah's ear, pulling him close, realizing where Jonah's thoughts must have been. While they kissed and their hands explored one another's bodies, both men slowly moved from side to side as if dancing to music only they could hear. Corey nuzzled Jonah's ear, inhaled the scent of his hair, and planted a row of kisses from earlobe to collarbone, grinning when Jonah trembled at his touch.

Riley knelt astride Bailey, on the room's armchair. They'd been kissing when the two others arrived, and Owen had gone in search of Lucas and Sam. "D'ya mind if we watch the guys' show?" Riley asked, quickly kissing the tip of Bailey's nose, eyeing him with quiet happiness.

During the few months they'd known one another, Riley was amazed at the changes in Bailey. He was more confident of himself, less . . . starchy, more willing to try new things. As Riley spoke, Bailey's mouth . . . the same lips which could drive him nearly insane with pleasure, seemed to quiver on the verge of a smile. "I'm lovin' being with you n'all, but we may never have a chance . . ." Riley added, glancing toward the two men who were now silhouetted against the light coming through the window. Behind them, the sheer drapes lazily billowed into the room, adding to the dreamlike quality of the scene.

Bailey interrupted, with a whispered, "Shhh," followed by a lingering kiss. "They want to put on a show. I'm more than happy to watch."

"Ummm," Bailey hummed, as Riley kissed his hand, then his arm, finally nuzzling an armpit. "Have I told you lately, Gen'rl, how much I love you?"

Bailey suddenly went very still. When Riley began to stand, thinking he'd become too heavy, Bailey reacted, holding him tightly.

"Y'okay?" Riley murmured, concern coloring his voice. "Hmm?" he asked, after a moment with no answer, tilting Bailey's face, up, with a finger beneath his chin, and raising his brows, in query.

Bailey nodded once. The corner of his lips quirked, and he blinked, suddenly misty eyes. "It's . . ." He took a shuddering breath. "It's just that . . . no one's ever . . ." He took another deep breath. "No one's ever told me they love me before. I mean, another man . . . never has." He paused, as if savoring Riley's words. "Y'sure?" His voice caught before he could continue.

"I certainly am." Riley nuzzled the crook of Bailey's neck. "I'll just have to tell you more often then, won't I?"

Bailey half laughed, half sobbed. "Oh, yes . . . please."

Both men looked toward the two men, who had moved to the bed. Corey was lying on his back, propped up on some pillows. Jonah gently groped his partner's groin, running his hands up and down Corey's legs, then over his flat belly, to tweak the sensitive nipples.

'It's amazing how sexy it is to watch a guy unsnap the waistband then unzip another man's jeans.' Riley thought. 'Of course, it might have something to do with the fact that Jonah has already gotten Corey's crotch, wet, even though he's still dressed. Or . . . maybe . . . it's the way both guys are slowly . . . squirming . . . about.'

Jonah spread the fly of Corey's jeans, exposing is lover's dark pubes, then fished his partner's erection free, grinning at Corey's lack of underwear. He paused to admire the thick organ, then licked across the glistening tip, a move as sensuous and exciting, as anything Riley had ever seen. He licked up and down the length of Corey's cock, sucking one testicle, then the other, into his mouth, before returning to his slow stimulation of Corey's penis.

Jonah would engulf the erection in his mouth, suck on it for a few moments, then lick up and down the underside, pausing to tease the piss slit with his tongue. Corey reacted to the gentle torture by holding both arms out to his sides, the well developed muscles flexing as he clutched at the sheets, and his toes curling with the stimulation. He rolled his head from side to side making low whimpering sounds, rhythmically thrusting himself into Jonah's welcoming mouth.

"This is way better'n any porn video I ever saw," Riley murmured, close to Bailey's ear, lest they disturb the two men on the bed.

Corey was now holding Jonah's head with both hands, as he unhurriedly pushed into Jonah's open mouth. He tightened the muscles of his buttocks, arching his back and burying his penis . . . once . . . twice . . . three times. Then, he would pause, with only the head remaining captive. He thrust, then paused, as if teasing himself, bringing himself to the brink of orgasm, only to back off, knowing even better things were coming.

"Gotta get these things off you." Jonah moved away, speaking almost to himself. He slid off the end of the bed and grabbed the cuffs of Corey's jeans, and tugged, sliding them over Corey's muscular thighs and calves, then tossing them aside. Riley tried to suppress a grin as he watched Bailey look at the puddle of fabric, barely overcoming his need to fold them neatly. When he overcame the desire and turned back to the two men on the bed, Riley's murmur of, "Good boy," caused Bailey to smile.

Free of the confining jeans, Corey bent his legs at the knee and spread them wide, as he lewdly groped himself with one hand and toyed with his butthole with the other. "C'mon, lover," he said, softly, "I'm needin' some attention, here." He wagged his erection, and Jonah quickly responded, crawling onto the bed between his lover's spread legs, engulfing his erection.

"Aw fuck. Aw fuck," Corey would repeat, each time his wiry pubes touched Jonah's face. He propped himself up on his elbows, then closed his eyes, arched his back, and loudly sighed, when Jonah penetrated him two fingers.

Again, like a well rehearsed dance, Jonah stretched the sphincter, before removing the fingers and offering them to Corey, who hungrily nursed on them.

Jonah reached behind himself and appeared to be pressing fingers of his free hand against his own hole, in a move blocked by his still-present jeans. "Play with my butthole, Cor," he said, his voice low with passion. In the first acknowledgment he knew Bailey and Riley were present, he added, "The guys want me to be naked too."

He fumbled, first with the button at the waistband of his jeans, then with the zipper, and, as he continued sucking Corey, he pushed his jeans down to just beyond the swell of his buttocks, exposing the flawless, milky-white skin of each muscular mound.

As if to heighten the onlookers' excitement, Jonah began humping the bed, each backward thrust causing his cheeks to separate. Still, his ass was only just exposed, framed on one side by the waistband of his jeans, and on the other by his t-shirt which stretched across his back and narrow waist.

Corey propped himself up and ran one hand down the center of Jonah's back then down the hot crevice, glancing at Bailey and Riley with a quirk of his brows, as if asking, "pretty damn sexy, huh?" Next, he spread Jonah's cheeks, giving the two onlookers a good view of the smooth, darker skin surrounding his sphincter. He toyed with the muscular ring, then slipped two fingers inside, just as Jonah had done to him.

Jonah groaned, and began fucking himself on the two fingers at the same time he humped the bed.

"Suck on the fingers, Cor," he mumbled, his face buried in the bed sheets.

Corey maintained eye contact with his two friends, as he withdrew his fingers. Instead of sucking on them, as Jonah had begged, he reached out and wiped his fingers across Bailey's lips. When he crossed Riley's lips with his fingertips, he paused, inviting Riley to nurse on them for a few moments before he once again began playing with Jonah's butthole, spreading it wide, toying with the fleshy ring of muscle.

This time, when he withdrew his fingers, he held out to Bailey.

"Spit," Corey ordered, nodding toward Jonah's spread pucker. "Get it wet for me."

"Aw geez," Bailey groaned, as he leaned over the bed, his face only inches from Jonah's exposed asshole. He spit once, then a second time, before resting back on his heels, breathing heavily and wearing a slightly dazed expression.

"Now, you," Corey ordered, spearing Riley with a glance. "Finger him. Massage his prostate. Get him horned up so he can fuck me. Stimulate him so he makes his own lube."

"For real?" Riley murmured, with raised brows.

"Do it!" Corey ordered, his voice low . . . insistent, accompanying a nod toward the spit-wet opening.

"Yessir," Riley murmured, wetting a forefinger then, without any hesitation, sliding it into Jonah's scalding hot butthole. He pushed in as far as his finger would go and located the prostate, causing Jonah to gasp with pleasure and begin fucking himself on the invading finger. It was as if he was trying to milk it, as he would someone's cock. Each backward stroke saw him tighten his sphincter and groan as Riley's finger slid over his swollen prostate.

"That's it, Jo," Corey cooed. "Y'love having Riley finger your asshole, don't you?"

"Uh huh," Jonah whimpered, tightening his sphincter in emphasis as he continued sucking Corey's cock.

"Now, you," Corey murmured, looking to Bailey.

Riley withdrew his finger, licked it once, then held it out for Corey to nurse on while Bailey fingered Jonah's prostate.

When Jonah's groans became insistent, Corey released Riley's finger. "Get those jeans off'im, then feel his nuts," he ordered. Even while Bailey continued to alternately finger Jonah's hole, and let Corey nurse on the spit-wet finger, Riley tugged at Jonah's tight jeans.

"G'on," Corey ordered, as Jonah climbed to his knees, continuing to suck him. "Work his nut sac. Get 'im all worked up. I want him to shoot a big load in me." There was a loud groan, and Jonah pushed back against Bailey's invading finger, seconding Corey's order.

Amazed at his good fortune, Riley fondled the large ball sac, feeling each testicle respond to his touch. Jonah's scrotum was smooth, and hung, swaying from side to side, with each of his movements.

Next, Riley circled Jonah's erection and slid a hand up and down its length. Just as he'd expected, the cock was drooling a steady stream of pre-cum, which he spread over the sensitive opening, with his thumb.

"Oh damn!" Jonah gasped. "I gotta fuck you, Cor. I gotta dump a load inside you for these guys to lick out. C'mon," he whimpered, impatiently, pulling away from Bailey and Riley's attentions, while Corey rolled onto his back and held his knees back to his chest.

"C'mon Jo! Do it! I need you in me," Core urged. He rocked his hips as Jonah positioned himself, sparing the two observers a glance as the head of his penis slowly began to stretch the muscular ring of Corey's sphincter. When Corey winced, Jonah paused. At a nod, he resumed, until finally the widely flared head disappeared and the sphincter snapped around the shaft.

"Ahhhh," Corey exhaled in a shaking voice. "That's always the hardest." Riley and Bailey glanced at one another, with wide eyes, unsure whether Corey was speaking to them, to himself, or to Jonah. Things did though, seem to be as he claimed, since, once Corey became accustomed to the head, Jonah easily slid in the remaining length of his erection, finally resting on top of his partner for a lengthy kiss.

"Fuck me, Jo," Corey murmured, the moment their lips parted.

Jonah pulled free, then stood at the foot of the bed, pulling Corey closer to him. He held Corey's ankles wide, glanced at the two observers, and eased his cock back inside. This time there was no hesitation, no hiss of indrawn breath or winces . . . nothing but a sigh of satisfaction.

"Aw geez," Riley groaned. "I've never seen anything as hot as this . . . anything," he repeated, shaking his head in amazement. 'Jonah's not gonna last long, not with the way he's pumping.'

Jonah would withdraw almost the entire length of his erection, then thrust forward, his scrotum slapping against Corey's skin with each forward thrust.

Even though a slight breeze continued to stir the room's sheer draperies, both men were covered in a fine sheen of perspiration. Jonah shook his head, sending droplets of moisture flying, some of them hitting Riley on the chest. Bailey grinned, leaned forward, and licked the chest clean, pausing long enough to tease each of Riley's nipples to firmness.

"C'mon, Jo," Corey breathlessly panted. "Fill me up." He began madly working his own cock, knowing his partner's orgasm was near. He groaned, squeezed his eyes closed, opened his mouth to take large gulps of air, and . . . shot.

Riley blinked in amazement as the first jet of Corey's thick juice splashed against his own chin. Even as Corey shot a second time, Riley returned his attention to Jonah.

"Aw geez," Jonah gasped, gulping a breath of air. His thrusts, which had been regular . . . machine-line . . . ceased. He held Corey's ankles wide, arched his back, and thrust into Corey, one last time. As his orgasm took him, he jerked once, then a second time . . . and a third, each time, pumping a load of sperm into his lover.

When the pulses ceased, Corey sighed. He released his cock and smeared what remained of his recent load over his chest and belly, then dropped his hand to his side, heaving a deep sigh of contentment.

"You like licking a cum-sloppy butthole?" Jonah asked, lightly resting a hand on Bailey's shoulder.

"Um, yeah," Bailey croaked, watching as Jonah eased out. Corey's sphincter quickly closed, but not before some of Jonah's load oozed out.

Jonah nodded toward the sloppy butthole. "That's for you. Don't forget to lick his chest and belly too," Jonah added, as Bailey quickly slurped up the escaping sperm, then buried his face between Corey's spread ass cheeks.

Jonah stepped away from the bed and held the base of his erection, aiming it in Riley's direction. "And, this is for you, my friend," he grinned. "I'm hopin' it might take you quite a while to get it clean for me." When Riley crawled close and was about to take Jonah's cock into his mouth, Jonah stopped him with a touch. When Riley looked up, Jonah finished his thought. "If you take long enough, maybe you'll get a little something . . . extra." He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows.

Nathan scooted some dirty laundry to the side of his bed and turned off the light. His mother had long ago gone to bed, closing the door to her bedroom with a declarative slam, reflecting her mood. His father had stayed until past one in the morning, first, discussing Nathan's business plan, then leaning back on the chair, next to his son, and resting his stocking feet on the computer table, discussing nothing in particular.

"You're worried 'bout the whole business change-over thing, aren't you?" Nathan asked. "Surely, the people you've hired know their stuff. They'll be able to handle whatever comes up."

Franklin Pruitt had sighed. "Yeah, I'm sure they will. I'm just not so sure if I will be able to. This has been a long time coming, Nathan, yet now that it's here, I'm finding out that the things I've suspected are nothing compared to what it appears reality is.

"It's not going to freak you if I lay some more stuff out, is it?"

Nathan shrugged, turning sideways in his chair and throwing a leg over one of the chair's arms. "Sheesh, Dad! How should I know if I'll freak? I mean, you've told me some pretty serious stuff tonight. If you think I can handle whatever it is you have to say, I'll trust your judgment."

"First off . . ." Franklin Pruitt stared into the distance, as if organizing his thoughts. "I wish you weren't involved in any of this, but, being my son, you are."

"So?" Nathan prompted.

"I wish you weren't going to Germany with us. It's just a feeling, but I think you'd be . . . safer . . . here. I don't expect anything." Franklin heaved a great sigh. "I don't know what I think." Franklin lowered his voice. "I fear for your safety, Nathan. Don't ask me why, 'cause I don't know. There is nothing specific." There was another sigh. "It's just that . . . lately, I'm becoming aware that I should have paid attention to my feelings, rather than wishing things were better. I'm probably jumping at shadows, or worse yet, shadows-of-shadows. Still, I'm learning to pay attention to my feelings." He looked at his son with a crooked smile. "I haven't done much paying attention during my marriage, and look what it's gotten me!" He shook his head, in sadness.

"Now, I'd like to say a couple things about hiring those new guys to represent the business."

Nathan nodded, feeling as he couldn't take much more, without, as his father put it, freaking.

"At first, I thought things would be really simple. I'd sign a few papers, they'd show up and take things over, and your mother, and her cronies would be out in the cold." He looked away, then back. "But, once the new folks got on board, things quickly became . . . serious. A weeks or so ago, the whole lot of 'em came into my office one afternoon, looking super serious. They're already a serious bunch, but this was even worse than usual. They showed me figures they'd come up with, from the books I pried loose from those scum bag attorneys, and some other stuff, and then asked if I would authorize a private investigator . . . to . . ." Franklin flicked a glance at his son, who was watching him, wide-eyed. "To, look more deeply than they the attorneys, themselves, can, into some stuff."

Nathan rubbed a hand over his face, then scratched his head, giving himself a moment to try and figure out what to say. "Geez, Dad! So, it looks like there have been major-type screw-ups goin' on." He focused on his father, who had not moved. "There's more to all this, isn't there?"

Franklin nodded once, moistened his lips, and plunged onward. "It appears that much, if not all, of . . . the . . . wrongdoing, centers on your mother and the attorney firm she recommended. Those bastards represented her father! Right off, I should have said no. Look where he ended up! If things don't center on her, she appears to have had a hand in everything."

"Oh shit." Nathan bowed his head and covered his eyes with a hand. "Have you told Riley, or . . . anyone else?"

"No. Riley's with Bailey attending something which means a great deal to Bailey, so I didn't want to bother him. Besides, I only found out today. That's the main reason for my baiting your mother like I did, a while ago. It wasn't good of me, but, I was actually trying to force your her into demanding a divorce, or letting something slip about what she's done. It'd be simpler that way . . . if it . . . the divorce, started off as her idea." He shook his head. "It didn't work. Besides," he shrugged, "It was a coward's way of handling things. Facing the woman down is the only way . . . and," his mouth twisted into a humorless grin, "We both know how difficult that can be."

Soon after, his father hugged him and wished him a good night, with the parting words, "Look out for yourself, son. Be suspicious of everything and . . . everyone," he concluded, glancing in the direction of Elizabeth Pruitt's bedroom.

Now, alone in his room, Nathan crossed his arms behind his head and stared, unseeing, into the darkness. 'What can I do to help Dad out? Are there any buttons I can push which might force Mother over the edge and make her do something . . . publicly, that would show her true face?'

He turned over and punched the pillow with a fist. 'All these years, presenting the goody-goody smile to all the world, when she was really using Dad! How dare the woman! Dad is just too understanding. Just 'cause he's a good guy, he thinks everyone else is. He's naive, but . . . that's Dad. All he really cares about is his business, plus . . . Riley n'me.

'So, Dad's concerned enough to warn me about . . . something.'

Something his brother said, during his most recent trip home, crossed Nathan's mind. "I don't trust her," Riley said, out of the blue. "Mother, I'm talkin' about. "I don't trust her, and I can't figure out what hold she has on Dad, that he keeps her around. I mean, she's a leech."

Riley quickly looked over his shoulder, and even though the door was closed, he lowered his voice. "I really do believe that, if she could find a way, she'd have someone take care of the two of us . . . permanently. I get the willies being anywhere near the woman! I just don't feel safe."

"You're serious . . . aren't you?" he asked, suddenly feeling very vulnerable.

"Yeah, I am. I don't know if it's just my imagination or what. It's just a feeling I can't shake. She can't stand the two of us, and I believe that the only reason Dad hasn't had an unfortunate accident, is that she needs him as a conduit for money or to maintain her place in society, or something."

"If what you're saying is right, what's keeping us alive?" Nathan asked, suddenly feeling very young.

"That's just it. I can't figure out a reason." His brother turned to him, and in all seriousness told him. "The moment you're able, Nathan, you've gotta get out of here. I believe it'll be for your own safety, but, if I'm wrong . . . and I could be . . . you'd at least be away from her."

That was during Riley's last visit. At the time, he thought that, maybe, Riley was over reacting to something. Now, after his father's nebulous warning, he wasn't sure. He sat up, no longer feeling young. Both his father and Riley had entrusted him with things they would never have told a child. He had to do something, something which would help his father, Riley, and . . . himself.

Maxine stole a quick glance around her small store, making sure she had an audience. The mother of one of the men Owen had dragged into Riverton had entered her store, nodded a polite greeting, and was looking at the merchandise.

"Well!" Maxine huffed, drawing herself up, with an accompanying sniff of disdain. "You must be the mother of one of those fag boys Owen's brought into Riverton to contaminate our children." All conversation ceased, just as Maxine expected would happen. 'Now, I figure the little woman will run out of the store, most likely crying.'

Instead, the woman approached the counter, with steel, instead of tears, in her eyes. She smiled pleasantly as she placed both hands on the counter. As she leaned toward Maxine, the grocer took an involuntary step back, flicking a glance toward the shoppers, who were slowly moving closer, hoping to see a confrontation.

"What . . . did . . . you . . . just . . . say?" The small woman, planted widely spaced hands on the counter and leaned forward. Maxine's mouth opened and closed, but she couldn't find her voice.

Olivia didn't wait. "Walking around town, many kind folks told me that if I wanted to have a pleasant vacation, I should avoid this place. I might say, that my son and his friends, were not among those offering such advice." She smiled, sweetly, "I never could listen to advice. What can I say? It's a failing of mine," she said, lightly. Her words drew an uneasy chuckle from some of the onlookers. "So . . .," she gestured toward the store, gathering in audience with her gesture and her mischievous smile. "So," she repeated, "Here I am, and there you are . . . a genuine, bonafide, true-to-life, A-number-one, dyed in the wool, bigot. You know . . . I've never actually met one of your sort before."

Maxine sputtered, feeling her cheeks flame in embarrassment. No one . . . no one . . . had ever spoken to her in this manner. 'How dare this bitch!' Maxine thought, drawing herself up. Before she could say anything though, the woman continued, carefully enunciating every word, as if she were speaking to someone who was exceedingly . . . slow.

"I would advise you not to try messing with me, Sister," Olivia's voice lowered, causing Maxine to blink in surprise at the strength in the petite woman's voice. One of the women in the store gasped, and a couple of the children giggled.

"This is so cool," a childish voice could be heard to say, only to be quickly shushed.

Olivia studied the faces of those townsfolk who had shown some courage, and stood nearby, silently lending her their support. "The people who happen to live in this lovely town won't talk back to you because they are afraid of what you might do. Those unfortunate souls who must deal with you, grin and bear it, then go home and seethe, feeling trapped."

Olivia leaned closer, her eyes never leaving Maxine's, as the grocer backed up another step. "The towns' folk . . . They may be afraid of the antics you might pull, but . . . I . . . am . . . not! You are nothing but a third-rate bully, my dear."

Someone did their best to stifle a surprised snort of amusement. The children however, did little to conceal their excitement at what they were witnessing.

"Where I come from," Olivia smiled sweetly, "We ladies handle people like you . . . for practice. Then . . . we move on to bigger challenges, such as deciding what to have for breakfast."

This time, there was outright laughter from the adults, and applause from the children, drawing looks of hatred from the stick of a woman, trapped behind the counter.

"Lastly," Olivia said, holding up a finger for emphasis. "It would not be in your best interest for me to hear that you have taken out some sort of petty revenge against my son, Owen, Sam, Corey, or Jonah, because of my standing up to you. I would imagine that's precisely what a small-minded bully might do. So . . . I am warning you. Today, I am merely irritated with you and your childish behavior. I will assume your conduct, is the action of a person with a limited intellect, in a sorry search for some sort of validation." She shrugged. "Whatever the cause, remember that today I am merely irritated. Suffice it to say that you do not want to see me when I am angry."

Without another word, Olivia turned on her heel and walked toward the front of the store, and the door. As she was about to step into the sunlight, Maxine threw a can, which had been sitting on the counter, narrowly missing Olivia, crashing instead into a display of stacked fruit, sending oranges rolling. The children ran to catch those which rolled out onto the sidewalk, and, amid childish laughter, ran off with them.

"Did'ya hear what that lady said to the ol' witch?" one child asked.

"Yeah," another laughed. "Let's go tell everyone."

Olivia paused, only long enough to look over her shoulder. "Now, now, my dear. I hope that childish outburst made you feel better. This whole discussion certainly has invigorated me." She smiled brightly, nodding to the open-mouthed customers, and took great pleasure at the smattering of applause which followed her into the bright sunlight.

Olivia threw open the door to Lucas' office, interrupting a meeting between her husband and son, both of whom looked up in surprise. She stood in the doorway, one hand grasping the doorknob, a flush of anger coloring her fair skinned cheeks.

"I want in!" she shouted, raising one hand high, like a heroine in a poorly acted melodrama. She released the doorknob, stomped across the Oriental carpet, and flopped, in a most unladylike manner, onto a chair, where she crossed her arms and gave both her husband and son a thin lipped glare.

"You are in, my dear," Neil Horton murmured, perhaps the only person who would not be intimidated by the diminutive woman's behavior. Often, his calm voice would diffuse his wife's anger. Today, it didn't. She turned to him with a scowl.

"Not that sort of in, you blockhead," she snorted, playfully punching her husband's shoulder, before sitting back and recrossing her arms, refusing to allow her anger to be diffused. 'I want in on this business. She waved an arm encompassing the building in which they sat, as well as her son's other endeavors. "You both are having all the fun. At the moment, I would like nothing more than to twist that scarecrow's neck, then hang her out to dry." She made a casually dismissive gesture. "Pardon the mixed metaphor, or whatever they are." Olivia gave her son and husband a decisive nod. "We'll show her . . ."

"Who, Mother?"

"That grocer-person. I was warned, but did I listen? That . . . woman . . . is lacking any redeeming qualities. She threw a can at me! Me!" Olivia looked from her husband to son, her voice rising as she continued speaking. "A blessed can . . . of beans! She missed, managing only to hit a stack of oranges, which provided high entertainment for a few the town's children. "If I had thrown a can at her, I most certainly would not have missed." She decisively nodded, then flopped back into the chair, and mumbled. "I detest beans."

Lucas did his best to conceal a smile. "You met Maxine."

"Yes, and as you may have surmised, it was not a very pleasant experience, let me tell you. Though, I do think that, in the war of words, I emerged the victor."

"She has yet to learn that one does not mess with Olivia Horton," her husband commented, dryly.

Olivia raised a finger. "That is precisely what I told her. And . . . that is why I want in. That harridan has taken this entire town hostage. She is nothing but a bully, using that store of hers to make everyone do as she wishes. Such behavior cannot be allowed to continue.

"I want in . . . as an investor . . . to help end her vise-grip on Riverton. The citizens of this lovely town deserve better. They deserve better than her, and most certainly deserve a better store. Why, the convenience store in the lobby of your building, Neil, has more merchandise than that place! Imagine! . . . beans! So . . ." she added, lowering her voice to one of reasonableness.

"If you have not already done so, I would like to suggest . . . strongly, Lucas, that you consider adding a grocery store to your business plan."

"Strange thing, Mother. Dad and I were discussing just such a thing when you . . ." He lowered his voice, "joined us. I am pleased to have you as an investor. I'll have Sam speak to you and get the paperwork started." He turned to his father. "We're working with Daniel's attorney-sister, Janie, to make sure we're doing everything correctly."

Lucas laughed. "Maybe Janie would like to visit Maxine. She'd challenge her to arm wrestle, or something. She's got biceps almost as big as Owen's or Corey's. Definitely not a woman to be messed with.

"A woman I would like to meet," Olivia said. "I like the take-charge type."

"Like you, Mother?"

"Well, now that you mention it, yes," she smiled demurely. "I thought it would be best if you made the connection, rather than me." She turned her smile from son to husband, both of whom snorted in amusement. "I may not have biceps to compete with Owen's, my dears, but I have . . . ways, of getting what I want, just as your attorney . . . Janie . . . does."

Olivia seemed mollified. She settled into her chair and assumed the pose of a woman who would never let anger mar her features. "Thank you, Lucas, for seeing things my way. Both you and your father are very reasonable, when presented with the facts . . . as I see them," she added, with a wicked gleam in her eyes. She held up a finger, asking for one more brief indulgence.

"I did . . . suggest . . . to . . . her, that she not transfer the animosity she feels toward me, in your or any of your friends' direction. Please make me aware of any attempts by her to do so. I shall do whatever I deem necessary to protect the men in my family."

"Dad and I have always appreciated it, Mother."

"I'm also speaking of Owen, Sam, Corey, Jonah, Bailey, and Riley. You are my boys. Biological or not, you and your continued happiness means a great deal to me. I tend to be very protective of the men in my life. I'd always hoped to have more than one son. Now, it seems, I have seven!" She barked a laugh. "I love it!"

Nathan Pruitt turned his back to the shower spray, giving the pulsating jets a chance to sooth the muscles of his shoulders as he shampooed his short brown hair. As always, when he was naked, in a public place, he wished he had Riley's body. 'He's damned near perfect! I can understand why he attracts guys to him. Those eyes of his! And, those lips! And, he looks way hot, when he's naked. I mean, even I might be persuaded . . .' Nathan thought for a moment. 'Naw. Sex with another guy is okay. I mean, I'm glad guys who are interested in that, can find one another. It's just not something I think I'd be into.

'Besides, I'm not sure very many guy'd be interested in a guy who's sorta skinny and plain. My butt's okay, or so Riley's told me, with a smile, and my weenie . . .' Nathan looked down at himself, wiggling his hips from side to side, causing his penis to follow the lead. 'Riley says it's nice, and, according to him, he's . . . ahem . . . seen . . . plenty of 'em.' Nathan grinned. 'Knowin' Riley, I bet he's done more than just seen 'em.

'Still . . . he's told me I'm cute. I guess that's a good thing, though hearin' a guy, much less, my brother tell me I'm cute, is about as useful as socks on a rooster.'

Nathan grinned at the image of a rooster in socks, as he rinsed the froth from his hair, then nodded a greeting to the person who began showering next to him. 'Then, there's Dad. Not that he has anything to do with socks or a rooster! He's sorta behaving like a deer caught in a car's headlights. He knows something bad's gonna happen, but, he doesn't know which way to turn.

'I just can't figure out what part Mother plays in all this stuff Dad says is being uncovered by those new attorney-guys, unless it has to do with money. But, what could she be doing? She's got plenty of money, as well as anything else she wants." Nathan sobered. "Unless, of course, she would like to be rid of Riley n'me.' Nathan realized he'd frozen in place. He shook his head, and began soaping-up, hoping the guy next to him didn't think he was weird, or something.

'Somehow, I can't believe Mother would stoop to killing a couple of her own sons.' Nathan thought a moment. 'However, Mother lives in some sort of alternate reality, in which laws and all sorts of rules don't apply to her.' He shuddered, shying away from a vision of his mother attacking him with a butcher knife, screaming something about having enough extra sons.

Suddenly, the steaming shower didn't seem nearly warm enough. He gathered up his stuff, nodded to the guy who'd been showering next to him, and left, heading for his locker.

'I've gotta come up with something to help Dad, and me . . . and Riley.

"The dinner was fabulous!" Olivia said, from where she and Bailey's mother, Louise, sat at the kitchen table and visited while Bea and Corey washed the dishes.

"You ladies are guests," Corey protested, when the two ladies asked if they could help. "Whenever I'm here for dinner, Bea and I always do the dishes. It's like a tradition. That way, the two of us have a chance to visit while everyone else carries on out on the porch, or in the living room."

"Does helping in the kitchen remind you of being at home, with your own mother?" Louise asked. Olivia's warning glance, and Corey's sudden silence told her she had said something wrong. 'Don't apologize,' she told herself, 'That'll just make things worse. Just play dumb.' She silently snorted a laugh. 'That will not be a difficult thing to do.'

"No ma'am," Corey answered, in a flat voice, glancing over his shoulder, acknowledging Louise, then Olivia, and lastly Bea, who was doing her best to behave as if nothing was wrong. "Since showing up on her doorstep, Bea has grown to mean a lot to me."

"As well as everyone she meets," Olivia stepped in. "I know, I've felt much more comfortable with Lucas being in a new place, knowing he is close to you, Bea, and to Daniel. Each time he calls me, it's obvious his admiration for both of you has grown. You might not realize it, but Lucas has never been quick to make friends . . . until he met Owen, that is."

"He's like a different man," Louise added. "So much more confident of himself."

"He's always been a melancholy sort," Olivia added. "Now . . . well, let's just say, the change you and your family have wrought has been nothing short of miraculous."

"For my own reasons, I must agree," Louise Wilkins said, into the silence. "Bailey is . . ." she hesitated, searching for the correct word, as well as control her voice . . . "the son George and I always dreamt of. You, Bea, through your son, gave my husband and me our son."

"A wonderful family, indeed," Corey said, in a light voice. Imagine . . . Owen leavin' Riverton, for just a few months, resulted in all of us being here, tonight.

"He's changed each of our lives, mostly by showing faith in us, giving us strength through is friendship. I'm talkin' 'bout Bailey and me. He sets an example we all do our best to live up to. And, he does all this, carrying around his own burdens."

"You'd better stop this," Bea laughed, or you all will have me bawling like a baby." She gulped a breath and dabbed at her eyes with the dishtowel Corey handed to her. "I've always been so proud of all my children, tellin' them they need to give of themselves in order to make the world a better place for everyone. It's gratifying to hear how Owen has taken that advice to heart. Each of them have, in various ways, shown me that they too think beyond themselves. Even little Opie." She smiled, glancing to her two guests, then Corey. "I have been blessed."

When Corey and the three women left the kitchen, Opie was in the middle of saying good night to everyone. She went from person to person, shaking the hands of Lucas' and Bailey's father, accepting a hug, or a kiss on the cheek from everyone else. Corey though, picked her up to hug her, and received a kiss in return, the only person, other than her mother, she ever kissed good night.

"Good night, little one," he said, holding her tight. "Pleasant dreams."

"Someday, I'm gonna be too big for you to pick me up," Opie said, leaning back to look, 'her favorite man,' in the eyes.

"Maybe," Corey said, playfully rubbing the tip of her nose, with his, "But, you'll never be too big for a hug, right?"

"Got that right," she said, leaning close and giving him another kiss. She then turned to the two guests. "Good night," she said, doing her best not to yawn. "It was nice meeting you."

"And you too, Sweetheart," Olivia said, captivated by the young girl.

"It's been a pleasure," Louise added. "Sleep well."

Bea took her youngest daughter from Corey's arms. "I'll see that she's tucked in."

When she returned, she found Owen introducing Abigail to everyone.

"Hi, Sweetheart. Did you have a good time?" Bea smiled, as she sat next to her husband, and took his hand, linking fingers, thinking how different her life had become since Jonathan's death. Both, her life and home were now filled with laughter. "I thought I heard Bessie backfiring."

"Bessie's a car," Owen supplied, answering the visitors' puzzled expressions.

"Not a cow, as one might suspect," Lucas added, "Although, since coming to Riverton, I've had the pleasure of meeting a couple cows who . . ."

"Lucas!" his mother interrupted, unable to hide her smile. 'He's so relaxed,' she thought, catching her husband's look of agreement.

Unrepentant, Lucas glanced at Owen, then turned to his mother. "Has Owen ever told you about the chicken who was picked up by a buzzard? He told me all about that, on the day we met. A truly memorable tale."

"Truly," Owen murmured, in an unamused tone.

Abigail smiled as she shook her head, amused at her brother's tone of voice, the took control of the conversation. "Yes, Bessie was on her best behavior." Abigail turned to the newly introduced guests. "Nothing like the last time, when the door handle came off in my hand. Clyde was nice, too. He always is. We had a good time."

"Clyde?" Louise ventured, wondering if the young lady was speaking about a human, or a vehicle.

"Clyde . . . he's Bessie's owner," Bailey explained, to his mother.

"Handler, more like," Jonah murmured.

Abigail frowned, but chose to ignore her brother's comment. "Clyde told me how much he likes you guys," she smiled at Corey and Riley. "Thanks for treatin' him nice. So many folks can't seem to separate him from Bessie. 'Cause of that, he goes around feeling inferior n'stuff. He's not! Well, thanks for bein' nice to him."

"He's a nice guy," Riley said. "He told us he thinks you're pretty special."

"He did?" Abigail's smile blossomed.

"Clyde?" Jonah asked, not sure they were speaking of the same person. "Are we speaking about Clyde McCorkle?"

Abigail rounded on him. "Yes, Clyde! And, maybe you should start treating him nice too, Jonah. You can ask Corey or Riley how to go about doin' it, okay?"

Abigail stomped out of the room, leaving silence behind.

"What'd I say?" Jonah asked, looking from side to side, seeking an answer.

"Nothing, Sweetheart," Bea grinned.

"She's acting just like you did, when you decided Corey, here, was the one," Daniel grinned. "At least she hasn't come into the house screaming that she's in love."

"You did that?" Corey asked, turning to Jonah, who was furiously blushing.

Daniel nodded. "Announced it to everyone within shouting distance, he did."

"Many times," Bea teased. "If I recall correctly, and I'm sure I do, he made his announcement, with his head thrown back, and his arms spread wide." Her eyes twinkled. "It was actually, quite moving."

Owen took pity on his brother. "It's okay. I'm sure all of us have done something stupid, the first time we fell in love."

"Not me," Sam added.

"Same here," Lucas said, ignoring both his mother and father's snorts of amusement.

"Yeah, right," Owen grinned, rolling his eyes. "Since your parents are here, Lucas, I won't go into details."

"If you won't, I won't," Lucas subsided, with a subtle warning, then turned to Jonah. What all this boils down to is, don't say, or think, anything bad about Clyde."

"Who, me? I think he's cute."

Corey playfully slapped Jonah's leg. "Don't tell your sister that either."

"Opie already has," Bea laughed.

"With Opie, it's okay. With Jonah, Abigail could get an entirely different message."

Owen leaned close to his brother. "Just between you'n me, I think he's kinda cute, too."

~ to be continued ~

Thank you for taking the time to read my work. I always welcome your email and enjoy hearing your thoughts. If you would like me to send you a pic of the character(s), please ask.

If you have enjoyed this story, you might also like to read, Phalen, also in the Gay College Section.

NOTE: All of my stories are available on the Crvboy.org gay story site