% This work of fiction is set in the format of real-world situations. Identifying details to real people, alive or dead, is entirely coincidental in nature.
% Countries have various rules regarding reading or viewing adult material'. It is up to you, the reader, to research this subject, abiding by laws and conscience. The pages of this story contain adult material', intended for an `adult audience.' Bypass this warning at your own risk!
% If sexual scenes involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if dude-to-dude sex stuff makes you wanna barf or is gonna screw up your mind, you should not read this story.
% Sexual safety matters. Guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection and I don't mean going out and hiring a security guard...unless he gives your nuts and bolt a jolt! Hey dudes, if you have enjoyed reading NiFTy stories as much as I have over the years, consider adding some $upport for `internet $pace' or else I will have to start cutting handsome, hairy or steamy characters out of my stories. Do you dare imagine a story without any tops?
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`See The Good In All Things' 03
WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
%
Blake was cursing everyone out, stuck in wall to wall traffic. But what he griped about, was the fact he had to leave `hot-man-Jared' in the hands of an unexperienced lad?
He knows not every guy is like this, but for a cub like Blake, a hot nip man himself, what a bad time to have to flee the scene. Oh man, would he have liked to stay and gaze upon those perky pec spots. It was making his mouth water right now!
While immobile in traffic, it wasn't the first time he got a hankering to slip a hand to his shirt, unfasten a couple of buttons and find one of his nips. Wired to his crotch, in no time his dress pants were tenting. Beauty of riding in the car, especially in traffic, he could work a nip until he felt the build up and not be detected. Though he thought.
The car on his left had eased forward, bringing the cab of a truck even with his door. It wasn't until a minute or two later the driver leaned on the horn, issuing a short `TOOT'.
"Oh shit!" Blake jumped in his seat, ripping his hand out of his shirt.
Nuttin' he could do about the pup tent!
The truck cab above him, Blake looks up to see one of the men motioning for him to drop his window.
In a quandary, he wanted to ignore the gesture, but the same time curious of the outcome. Gone undetected, things like a flat tire or brake light out just happen.
Blake gives in.
"Hey," a hand drops down out of the truck window, business card attached, "give us a call if you ever need some heavy duty movers."
He must've been a pro at this, practiced hours, days, months, years, that when the hand flicked the card, it spiraled and landed right in Blake's lap!
"What the?" he looked down at his crotch, up at the truck cab, down, up at no truck in sight.
Then he was left at the mercy of a massive amount of beeping, traffic all around him suddenly taking off and whizzing past him. Blake didn't want to forget this accidental meetup, but then remembered he had a meeting crosstown, `damn it!'
When he got to his next destination, the Howelland warehouse, he realized he read his reminders wrong, the meeting not for another half hour. Good for a couple of reasons. Feeling it in his pocket, Blake wanted to study the card flicked through his window, and b', he self-secreted enough spunk that if he didn't wipe, it might show through'. His briefs could only sop up so much of the nip-induced, milky liquid.
Early, gave him time to dash inside the warehouse, go to the men's restroom and because it was small enough, he could lock and wipe up in privacy. However, first on the agenda, Blake pulls the business card forced on him from his shirt pocket.
It read:
Crane & McKeene Moving
"No job is too big!"
followed by a ten digit number
Handwritten above McKeene', the name Troy' was scribbled.
Speculating on the composite sketch he had in his mind, Blake flips the business card over, to see if any other personal notes had been jotted down. With none, he flips it back and vocally reads, "Troy, huh?"
Recollections, Blake pictured this `Troy' as half a face and attached, whiskers; goatee and stache. Not much to go on, it tickled Blake's interest, making it hard not to call that number. If anything, he had an insatiable curiosity, not to mention the urge to rearrange the furniture back at the main office.
Barking like a bull dog, a voice bellowed from outside the door, "hey, wanna hurry it up in there, guy? I gotta like piss something fierce!"
`Just not my day,' Blake blames himself. Quickly he stuck a wad of paper towels down his pants, swabbed, pulled out and disposed of the soiled matter.
He heard someone try the doorknob.
Exercising his executive position, "alright, already, will ya hold your horses?"
Still conscious of his moist pubes, Blake still had the drive to dial the number on the business card. With some other dude having to `tie it in a knot', he pulls out his cell and tabs the number in. He got a recording and out of anxiety, he forgets to leave his name, though a short message, "hey, this is the guy in the car you almost ran off the road!"
Then he hung up, mused by his own giggle. Purposely he was playing hard to get along, not leaving his name.,
"Hey!"
Even though cool, calm and collective type of dude, it sent anxious shivers down Blake's spine, when the voice comes calling out. That excessive pounding though, he half-muses and with domineering attitude, `I don't care how much a guy has to pee, no one does that to Blake Harrison and lives to tell!'
"Hey," another badgering bass-drum-beat came banging at the door! Then, like it was meant to bust it down, "you coming out guy, or what?"
With hell-raising on his mind, Blake smiled, thinking of waiting until the door broke off its hinges, or maybe a flood of piss under the door. A grin had him speculating opening it to a dude with pants soaked around the crotch.
"Fuck you, bitch!"
First of all, nobody `fucks' Blake Harrison, and, "bitch?" he swings the door open with attitude, "really, man?"
However, with a physical whoosh, the guy who had to pee so bad, comes rushing in, literally knocking Blake off his feet!
"Outta my way, dude, if you know what's good for you!"
Man', hardly, as Blake is forced to sit' his butt up on the vanity. He never saw a guy tear at his belt buckle, the zip at z-force, making a sound of done in haste, and even though the youth's back is to him, he can only vision the monster pulled out of the khaki work pants.
"Whooooa-weeee, man, you don't know how bad I had to go!"
Knocked off his feet, secretary to the man who owned the turf they tread on, Blake had an arsenal of vocal warfare to wage on the dude who `assaulted' him, but all that animosity began to wear off. In fact, in the middle of reprimanding, "who do you think you are to," Blake caught sight of pants sagging down to ankles, briefs hugging the lad's lower thighs, that lily white ass and suddenly not only was his brain empty of words, but his vision blurred.
"Y'know, dude," the young guy turns, which at the same time is hauling his briefs up over his junk, "I heard you in here on your cell. That is so fucking rude," he ridicules. "You take some kind of sadistic pleasure doing that to a guy?"
"No," Blake simply says.
After doing his business, the lad doesn't ask, blocking Blake into a small perimeter. Turning to face the mirror, the guy turns on the faucets, rubs hands with water, squirts soap out of the dispenser and rambles on as he washes, "there oughta be a rule against pencil-necks doing their business in a company wash room."
It could be moot discussion, though no contest to the fact, when their bods hastily were swiped past each other, the bottom half of Blake's dress shirt popped a button, tore out of his dress slacks. It was only because he needed ammo, Blake looks down, points out, "look what you did, you tore my shirt."
Truthfully, the evidence was there, his shirt split open at the belt line, navel and fuzzy hair showing, but apparently the youth, who now faced him, lost concentration, "yeah right, like you didn't get more than that out of it?"
Placing both hands on his upper abs, Blake presses and pulls at his stomach and in looking down, "what do you mean?"
It was like he had to compare, himself to the young dude.
Now Blake stood under the gun, the guy saying to him, "hey dude, are you checking me out?"
Well yeah, Blake didn't say, but managed a glimpse down the fratboy's shirt.
It certainly would look that way, if an onlooker were present. Unknown to the pisser, when at the urinal, Blake's eyes were up and down the lad's back until they settled right on that crack. When he turned full circle, his eyes were a dead giveaway, staring at the youth's crotch.
"Who me?" Blake changed his tune, "oh no, no, no, not me. I mean. No. Of course not! What do you take me for, some kind of pervert?"
Not the first time he's been picked up in a men's public restroom, the 20-year old buttons his jeans, leaving the belt buckle and zipper unfastened, "yeah, sure," the lad is sure of himself.
No matter how he moved in the small bathroom, Blake was cornered, "you're being ridiculous."
However he didn't fight the feeling, the Asian dude gaining ground, shuffling feet gaining by inches, "just as I thought."
"As you thought...thought what?"
They came in all kinds, from all walks of life and presented with alternatives, "never fails," he means the intuition which precedes the action.
He wasn't sure whether to put on the brakes. Manhandled by the youth using his tie to real him for a kiss, all Blake could think of was `authority', his position, and after that first smooch, "you're in a lot of trouble, young man." Blake wipes the kiss off his lips with the back of a hand.
Still filled with confidence, a hand reaches out, grabs the pink and purple tie, "yeah, right."
At first there was hesitation, until Blake gives in, as hands slip down the youth's shirt till they rested on the one button hinging between the dividing line between good and evil.
Breaking off the kiss, the youth says, "go for it, man!"
Things happening fast, the dude tears at the knot in Blake's tie, pulling it from around the neck.
A driven man, Blake unbuttons the one thing keeping him from crossing over into oblivion, sweeping the shirt downward, over the Asian's butt, drawing them together.
"Oh yeah, dude," their bods clash.
That closeness serves to help nimble fingers unbutton Blake's shirt, till it slices open. Both shirt and suit jacket are pressed over the shoulders, "oh hell yeah!"
Blake had to stop to find out what was was so hell-yeah, "wha?"
He backed up but was brought back into the Asian youth's grasp, hands on his belt, reeled back together.
Hypothetically, that onlooker would have perceived the `cub' in control, but now the lanky lad, having gazed upon the beefy pecs, belly and all that massive moss, couldn't hold his tongue back any longer!
A different kind of release goads him on, "oh. Oh, oh, oh-yeah," the lad reaches down, tastes one of Blake's nips.
All he could see is a black, bushy mop, move from left to right, but not only the visual, the sensual started to affect Blake, which without thinking, moves a hand to his own crotch.
"Oh no," the nip-tantalizing stops, "hands off!"
"What-tha?"
Chancing his luck, the youth says, "that's mine now."
Looking down upon himself, up at his aggressor, "I beg your pardon?"
Cruel smile, though meant in a friendly way, "I turn you on, right?"
"Well," Blake couldn't think of why not, but had a reputation to uphold, which he probably should have thought about 10 minutes ago, "you're crazy."
Okay, so that didn't work and frankly, the dude was kind of crazy, indeed, "okay, maybe a little."
Blake didn't expect that, "huh?"
"I have a confession to make."
This was getting weirder by the moment, but it entertained the secretary, "what's that supposed to mean?"
"First," the lad steps away, approaches the door, locking it. Doubling back and leaning his tush on the corner of the sink, crosses arms, "no doubt I had to whiz off pretty bad, but I saw you come in here earlier and," he looks convicted.
Blake is fascinated, standing there with arms folded across his bare pecs, "and?"
"I don't know what got into me, but I had to find out something."
Suddenly, all thoughts of having to be at the warehouse for an employee meeting was erased from Blake's mind, "and that something was?"
He made faces', which Blake thought kind of cute', before divulging, "you. Your physique. I love it all."
Well, Blake wasn't sure about the youth's bod, but certainly he had a very handsome face, but about himself, "you into cubs?"
Meant in a different way, "I wouldn't mind going there, but yeah, I can dig your type!"
Blake was adamant about any guy `going there', but certainly was entertained by the other, "I think the feeling can be mutual, um?"
"Jet, but lately I've been Americanized. They call me Jerry."
Sinking thoughts about who came on to who and who was going there' or where', Blake says, "well, `Jet', you've seen what you like, but I don't exactly know what I am getting in return?"
"Oh," Jet looks down upon himself, "you mean." Perceived right, Jet lifts his shirt tail, revealing, "you like smooth guys?"
Almost smooth, a small pond of hair soiled the middle of Jet's chest, between pecs. From there, a thin trail led down to his bellybutton, which seemed to cascade in and out, continuing to bushy pubes.
Reaching forward, Blake feels uninhibited about feeling up the merchandise, tweaking Jet's nips, "except for these?"
"Oh-h-h-h," Jet drops his head back, "yeah, baby, do me up good!"
Dropping both hands, relaxing Jet's nips, Blake giggles, "not too much of a good thing, eh?"
Anger was replaced with lighthearted laughter, Jet saying, "you got that right!"
Not lovers, but new-found friends, Blake introduces himself, tacking on he was secretary to the boss of the company.
"Oh geez, I guess I'm fired then?"
Snidely, as the pair begin to repair their wardrobe, Blake says, "not unless you refuse to have dinner with me tonight?"
Not which it ever bothered Jet, yet curiously to know, "how old might you be?"
"I doubt that really matters, based on you came onto me first, but for the record, thirty-one. You?"
"I came onto you? Nah. It's like you were staring me down as I took a piss. I'm Twenty."
Blake thought on it. Not the age, but deciding to take the blame, left it alone, "oh, a college boy?"
Jet allowed Blake's elbow to tap his arm, to move out of the way, "more a wanna-be."
Washing hands, "what's stopping you?"
"It's complicated," Jet watches Blake's every move.
"Well then, over dinner maybe you can uncomplicate things," Blake looks at his watch, "but right now I am about twenty minutes late for a manager's meeting."
"Oh, I forgot to mention," Jet says apologizing again, "I work here, but I'm not a manager, so won't be at your meeting. What time is dinner?"
Blake, who was able to doctor up the torn off button area of his shirt, studies Jet, "y'know, part of the agenda is filling a couple of managerial openings. Why don't you accompany me to the meeting?"
"Manager? No way. This is my first day on the job. How could that be possible?"
"Jet," Blake places a non-sexual grasp on the lad's shoulder, "with being right hand man to the boss, all things are possible!"
Doubting things could be going his way right now, "okay. If you say so."
%
The uber idea went kaput, Peter realizing his cell was not as charged up as anticipated, showed anxiety, repeating over and over, "c'mon, c'mon, c'mon."
"What's up?" Jared didn't wait to hear what was up, walking over to Peter and gazing over the lad's shoulder, "oh, I hate it when that happens."
The charging bars code red.
"I can't believe it." Not that Peter couldn't believe the back, left shoulder of his shirt felt moist, Jared sweating like a sweat-hog!
"Things happen," Jared says, smiling.
"Right," Peter accepts it, his phone not charged up, "that's what my mom used to say," quoting, "things don't happen without a reason, she used to say."
Jared agrees, "shit happens," which it has already proven out, if he didn't leave his gear in Reed's truck, right now he wouldn't be smelling Peter's deodorant, like fresh baked chocolate chip cookies pressed to the nostrils!
Taking to walking, Jared didn't think he should leave the shovel, carrying it over one shoulder, "and just think, if I hadn't left my shirt and phone in Reed's truck and your cell gone dead, I wouldn't be walking down the road with a hot man next to me!"
Not which he wasn't drawn to Jared, but put out in the open like that, Peter says, "you're not so bad looking yourself!"
Jared took it as a hint, Peter's knuckles clashing with his, "you're kind of young for a boyfriend, but have you ever had one?"
`Boyfriend,' he thinks on it, "I think it could be in my future," Peter smiles with hint.
Accepting what he thinks is meant for him, Jared responds, "now, what would your friends say about you dating an old man?"
"Old is like my grandfather!"
"I guess."
Not that it didn't leave Peter perplexed, "by the way, how `old' is old?"
"Thirty-two. Scare ya?" Jared chuckles.
Peter sums it up, "nope. Makes me feel more mature."
"Hmm, wonder how that equates to sex?"
Not which Peter hadn't hope, "guess you'll have to find out. I mean, us young guys, we can get mighty aggressive!"
Hitching the side lane of the road, Jared says, "bring it on. Bring it on!"
What might have been a different meaning of Jared's intentions, a horn honks, late model BMW pulling over. The passenger window powers down, a voice asking, "need a ride?"
Older than Jared, it was apparent the driver was looking for more than giving the pair a ride. Both he and Peter got a better look when the driver got out, opened the truck and had Jared toss the shovel inside.
Things really get bumped up when the conversation turns to the driver handles a bag, saying, "if it interests you, I've got some `toys', if you're into that kind of thing?"
Like on the same wavelength, Jared says, "what have you got in the bag?"
In the dark about such things, Peter inquires, "what do you mean-toys?"
"Ever get into s&m?"
Peter hadn't, "what's that?"
Jared had, "some. What toys would you have to use on me," he hints!
It's then the driver thinks he sees things clearly, "oh I get it. He," pertaining to Peter, "your young master?"
Playing along, Peter is silent, Jared saying, "how could you tell, um, I didn't get your name?"
Already into the roleplaying, "Master Brad," and before a moment could turn sour, "I bet we three could have some fun?"
Silent until now, Peter asks, "what kind of fun?"
Brad wasn't an idiot and by now had conjured up what he could for a shirtless man with perky pecs, "got some hot nip toys, plenty of rope, a flogger," turns to Peter, "you'd love it, watching your boy get hard over having his nips worked over?"
Red light turns green.
Jared whet his lips, probably feeling it more than Peter was right now. Though, he was liking Peter and not wanting their friendship going astray, "I'm not a no-limits guy."
"What's that?" Peter asks.
Bypassing Peter, Brad says, "but there's always something to work towards," he laughs out loud.
Torn between what Peter wanted to do, Jared was about to put it off till another time, when Brad gets a call, saying they would have to postpone their play time. Still though, he drove Jared and Peter to their intended destination, the company warehouse.
With Brad's business card in their possession, Jared and Peter walk towards the warehouse door.
Almost badgering, with brightened eagerness, Peter says, "so, are you going to call him back?"
Answering Peter, Jared says, "I could. Or, you and I could go through the motions and work up our own scenario?"
"Might be cool. Except," Peter smiles, "he's got the bag of toys and we've got nothing?"
"I think we can work around it," Jared laughs. Sliding the warehouse door for Peter, he chides, "but of course, you, being my master, you would be calling the shots?!"
Entering the warehouse, the pair got lots of looks, but mainly they were cast to Jared's shirtless bod. New to the company workforce, the pair get smiles and straight faced responses.
Perhaps wiser, Jared says so only Peter can hear, "I take it a lot of gay-boys work here."
Not as innocent as he displays, Peter says, "like how could I not notice?"
Wishful thinking, Jared puts it out there, "I wonder if any of them are into s&m?"
"I thought I was the master, who calls all the shots?"
Reaching an employee area, Jared once again holds the door for Peter, "yes, Sir!"
Another sign points to Locker Room', accompanied by no loitering.'
"Hmm," Jared is quick to say, "do you think they mean us?"
"I hope so!"
Once inside the locker room, Jared complains, "oh no."
"What?" Peter looks at what Jared spies upon, locker no. 69.
"The key. It's in my shirt pocket."
"Let me guess," Peter says, "the same shirt in Reed's truck?"
Quaint smile, while bobbing his head up and down, Jared says, "yup."
"Do you think they have one of those big-ass-cutting-pliers?" Peter motions, jackknifing.
"Could be, but I haven't seen anyone who looks like a janitor."
Off seeking assistance, Jared gets more check outs, Peter saying, "I think you're right. Lots of gay boys work here."
They talked freely, yet in hushed tone, concerning the nature of their conversation.
"If you don't trust me, you could lay there and pretend you're tied down?"
Smiling, because Jared was feeling giddy about having a young master, "who says I don't trust you?"
"Well, dah," Peter says with sarcasm, "don't you think it's logical, hooking up with a guy you don't know?"
"Right," Jared agrees, yet had this feeling he could be chained at ankles, wrists, chains crisscrossing his bod and sense sensibility on Peter's behalf.
"I've heard that happening."
Not wanting to go into the `dad-talk', Jared places an arm out to the side, barricading Peter's gait, then stopping the pace, "are we talking s&m or sex?"
Shrugging both shoulders, Peter says, "oh, it doesn't include sex?"
"Hm, now there's a thought!" Jared snaps his fingers, laughing it off.
Having no knowledge of s&m, it made Peter feel good, having contributed something. Maybe he didn't know much about this s&m stuff, but he knew what it meant to get a stirring in the loins!
Spotting a square booth, Jared says, "hey, I'm sure the security guard has Reed's phone number."
"Worth a try," Peter follows Jared's tail, headed towards the red-lit exit sign.
Being the gentleman, Jared ushers Peter, "after you, again, Sir!"
"I could get used to this!"
Coming up the hallway, Blake had just vacated the manager's meeting and shown the courtesy to Jet, paves the way to the security booth, opening the door. Unknown trajectory, it brings Peter into Jet's broadside view.
"Ow!"
It didn't really hurt Peter at all, except his left hand held out to cushion his fall.
"Not again," Blake says of the incident.
Jared remarks, "again? Did we miss something?"
Blake, who has just suffered a nearly full hard-on with Jet, lets it fall to the wayside, "uh. No. Nothing."
Jet's attention was on Peter, thinking of the handsome face, blond hair, sturdy bod and so on and so forth, eyes traveling down, though not past the belt buckle. A double whammy, he was also torn by perky pecs showing through particles of hair on Jared's chest, "oh, it's you."
"I was hoping the security guard had keys to the lockers?"
Coming back to his station and seeing one guy, shirtless and dirty, the security officer says, "do you work here?"
At one time Peter could allow people to boss him around, but after high school, life really began for him. College had changed all that past life of eing bullied. Part of the reason Uncle Gas was giving him a chance, not only that his mother put her brother up to it, but Peter had shown his worth, to be serious and not a flighty teen. He was not that little pee-on like back in high school. Not on his own, but his psychologist sending him off to that kind of' summer camp, it produced a fine specimen of the man in Peter. He could now pull his weight and not let others bully him. It also was a benefit for the uncle, teaching Peter how to punch', the one thing Gaston took credit for, even though it gave him a sore core!
Before Peter could speak up for himself, Jet, who seemed like he could use an attitude adjustment when the situation arose, barks out, "of course he works here. What do you think?"
Officer `C-K', as he was called, short for Eric Conan-Khan could've been hired on looks alone. At 6'2, poundcake-packed chest, tough belly, just to look at him could make a man shake in his boots. Apparently not the case with Jet, who showed no fear. Yet, not ready to be knocked off his boots, C-K turns from Peter, "and you?"
Like he was boss of operations, Jet says, "y'know, you got a lot of moxie. I like that!"
Whether Jet was trying to brown-nose him, Eric had thoughts of his own, "you think so, do you," he was thinking of taking his broad hand and putting Jet over his knee!
`Moxie?' it made Blake crack a smile, says to Jet in a warning manner, "oh, C-K, he's got moxie and a whole lot more!"
The others, Jared and Jet, were certain there was hidden meaning in Blake's assumption.
Peter, "you can't tell what a man is made of until he proves himself."
"Hm, interesting," the security officer liked Peter's theory, still thinking about Jet's red bum and what that would prove!
Before anyone could prove any theories, a tune plays. Like name that tune, Blake wins out, stabbing his pocket with a hand and retrieving his cell phone. He looks at his phone, which turns up the name, `McKeene' and like always, when something of importance comes up, "well, time is money gentlemen."
He tears out of there like the warehouse is on fire!
"Must be important," Peter assesses.
Jared agrees, "must be," but his attention was more on Peter.
What he didn't expect, happened, Jet grabbing up space in his quadrant. Touching Peter's arm, 5 minutes after their collision, "hey, are you sure you're okay?"
"Oh sure," Peter says, "I can take way more than that."
Getting the message, Jet sweetens up his focus, "hey, just making sure you're okay man," he disconnects, running a hand down Peter's arm.
"I'm fine."
Perhaps they were reading each other's thoughts, but it wasn't the only silent thinking going on in the hallway.
Whereas some could beat around the bush, Jared pay more attention to the 6-plus-foot security man, "so, C-K, you wouldn't happen to have a master key to the lockers, would you?"
Truthfully, whether known or not, Eric had already been checking Jared out, from nose to navel, "I might."
Fortunately for the two, Jet and Peter had gravitated over to the vending machines.
He's been roleplaying since his teen years and loving it, so Jared can pretty much feel where this is headed, or so he thinks, "see something you like," he elaborates, "or like to use?"
Thwarting his plans, in walks Reed, "hey Pappas, you left your stinking shirt in my truck," he hurls the wallet-laden garment at Jared.
Eric opinions, "that's so rude."
"Well I didn't ask your opinion," Reed confronts Eric.
Jared just stood there, taking in the war on words, C-K coming out from behind his security booth, "opinion? Really, Sullivan, you want to go there?"
From Jared's perspective, this could wind up as a WWF playback, "hold on a sec, guys." The hand holding his shirt pressed into the chest area of Eric's navy blue uniform, which had Jared remarking, "oh my! I take it you work out?"
It was true, but Eric was thinking about how he'd like to be working out with a new gym partner, "maybe."
His other hand was on Reed's chest, separating the two adversaries, "you trying to prove something Pappas, spit it out."
Reed wiped Jared's hand from his chest, leaving the hallway.
"Testy, isn't he?" Jared asks.
Knowing they were all on the same page, Eric says, "not only that, he's got a big dick!"
Last laugh is on Eric, Jared confessing, "I know."
"Wow," Eric muses, "Reed doesn't waste any time...dividing and conquering on the first day of work," he snickers.
"Um, about that key?"
With Jared holding his `stinking shirt', C-K says, "I thought the key was in your shirt?"
"Oh yeah. I did say that, didn't I?" Jared fishes in his pocket. Finding it, he ignores the metallic feel of it, "I guess it must've fallen out."
"Lucky for you," Eric steals a key off a hook on the wall, "I have duplicates."
Light chat followed for all of the 2 minutes it took to walk to the sign on the door that read `Male'. Pushing through they are faced with Reed stripped down to his socks.
"Nuthin' C-K and I haven't seen," Jared chuckles.
Reed confronts them in his socks, a hand cupping his balls, "really Pappas?"
Nervous that he said something, Jared tries to cover up, "well, it's not like we blabbed it all over the company."
Standing there, Reed drops his hand, "and I suppose that let's you off the hook, Pappas?"
More than a willing play victim, Jared says, "of course not. Keeping our working relationship means a lot...reason why I would do anything to make it solid."
Reed knew he was getting bullshitted, but liked how he was being played up to, "I'm sure we can come to mutual terms."
"Ahem," C-K clears his throat, "being Jared and I are fastly becoming friends, I'd sure be willing to help make reparations?"
Jared offered "gee, thanks Eric."
It was time for Reed to rake a call off his cell, "later," dismissing Jared and the security man.
"Well, I better get that locker open," Eric is smitten.
It then comes to Reed, his time is not tied up in anything tonight. Following the two over to Jared's locker, "hey C-K, why don't you get that replacement security guard to come in early?"
As Eric keys the lock, "oh, and why would I want to do that?"
Seeing where this was going, Jared reiterates, "yeah, why would he want to do that?"
Standing there, not covering anything up, Reed places a hand on Jared's shoulder, "because, being you owe me Pappas and you got a nice place to have some fun, we could get some guys together and party tonight. Get it?"
Certainly, it was fine with Jared, only he knew he was being taken advantage of, "I'll pass, thanks."
"Really?" Reed was puzzled. To entice, since he liked the idea of partying in a dungeon scenario, "there'll be lots of holes to plug?"
"Like I said. Pass."
"Suit yourself," Reed says, reaching a hand back in his pocket and walking away.
Eric says, "are you sure you want to pass up on all that `dick'?"
"Truthfully, I prefer only two holes being used!"
Laughter follows, Jared pointing to his mouth, like he was trying to self-induce barfing, the other hand behind the back, patting his own ass with the back of the hand.
"I'll certainly make every effort to accommodate you!"
"I was hoping so."
Their eyes remained glued, until Eric breaks it off, "well, I better get back to my station."
On his way out of the men's locker room, Jet and Peter are on their way in.
"Hey, Jared," Peter calls their attention, "Jet and I thought maybe you would like to get a coupla beers with us, you know, first day on the job celebration?"
Before Jared could say, Reed butts in, "sure he would and being we already had something going on, I'll come too." Apparently Reed wasn't giving up on a multi-player sexcapade!
Shrugging both shoulders, Peter says, "cool with us, I mean me," he looks to Jet for approval.
"Fine with me."
Back from trying to set up the evening security guard on an earlier shift, Eric busts in the door, "made the connection. We're all set."
Taking a pair of pants out of his locker, Reed says, "a little change in plans. Peter and Jet are taking us out for beers," and before Eric can give his ok, "and make sure you got your wallet on ya, Pappas."
Jared thought it nervy. Though he mellowed out, thinking of his and Reed's hiatus from the job at noon. And those aggressive fingers...his nips were still sore and perky!
"So," Jared doesn't waste time, "one of you guys want to point me to the shower?"
"Shower?" C-K shrugs it off with a laugh, "I can't believe someone hasn't thought of requisitioning a plumber and fixed that leaky showerhead!"
"Really, is that all?" Jet steps up. "We're in a hardware warehouse, dah. I'm sure the parts are all here for the taking."
Security man C-K confronts the youth, "taking? Like in stealing?"
Reed, who had been dreaming in his truck, about how hot his lunchtime was with Jared, looks forward to multiple orgasms. Showering together would've been a nice epic moment to end his day. Stripping off his shirt, "for pete's sake, let the kid go get the parts and fix the damn thing!"
C-K stops the two from leaving the locker room, "uh, wait a minute there you two?"
Jet could pretty much figure out what C-K is up to, "yeah, dad?"
The 32-year old Irish-Arabic, muscular security guard had the two at attention, "I better tag along, in case there's questions about why two of our employees are helping themselves to store stock. We got protocols, you know?"
He didn't say anything about being called, `dad', so Peter follows Jet's lead, though not as natural a tone, "Yeah. Cool, dad!"
Fact is, never being in a relationship, not really wanting children of his own, Eric smiles, thinking, `much easier starting out with older, without the pitter patter of tiny feet, diapers and all the things that follow, raising a child from early years, through middle. Teens, well probably he could teach them a thing or too. It could work both ways, learning stuff he never had a chance. With a father hungry for a cash flow, putting Eric to work in the family bakery at fourteen, there wasn't time for things like soccer, tennis, wrestling and other things learned in the teen years. Watching both youths ahead of him, this is what Eric thought about, gazing on the flopping pompadour hairstyles, top-bopping with each footsteps.
With suddenness, Peter turns around and like Jet in is on the joke, calls back, "hey, old man, can't keep up?"
It made Eric snap out of day-dreaming and to the laughter ahead, quicken his pace, "I'll show you, old man!"
Then it became a race. Though, for Jet and Peter, first time in the warehouse, had no clue to where they were headed, allowing Eric to take the lead.
"Don't think for a minute there, `dad', that we're allowing you to get ahead of us!"
With mixed signals, Eric seeing that adorable smile crease Peter's lips, like it was an affectionate response or something, he says, "of course. I'm just as agile as when I was your age!"
Purposely, Jet slams his chest up against Peter's back, close enough to whisper in his friend's ear, "I wonder how that works in bed?"
Being between Eric, holding the door for them, Peter could no way respond to Jet, without the security man hearing, so kept his plentiful thoughts to himself.
Though, passing through the door arch, he did flash that toothless smile again, "thanks, dad!"
% Copyright 2020 T. Chase McPhee
Developing segments of `See The Good In All Things', may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.