% 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?
http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html %
`See The Good In All Things' o4
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 the unexperienced?
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, but for right now, rounding his mouth with his tongue had to suffice!
While immobile in traffic, it wasn't the first time he got a hankering to slip a hand to his shirt pocket. Sliding to mid-shirt, he unfastens a couple of buttons. Slipping his non-driving hand inside, Blake feels the electricity build, gliding over a bed of hair. He sighs, "oh-h-h," upon reaching the hard tip of his left nip. He slips into a reverie, picturing Jared's nips as his own. Wired to his crotch, in no time he sprouts a pup tent, "oh-h-h-yeah!" 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 jumps, as if a lightning bolt had struck!
Blake jumped in his seat, which made him realize he hadn't fastened his seat belt. This triggered a chain reaction, wondering why a beeping sound from the car dash, hadn't alerted him of the unlawful act.
However, it became second nature to a truck cab towering 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 what the outcome could be. Maybe he had a light out.
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, then up.
The truck had sped ahead. 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!'
Quick as traffic started moving, Blake notices the same moving truck driving slowly. In the fast lane', it should have moved in leaps and bounds ahead. This drove his curiosity levels, aware of the slowdown, apparently wanting' him to catch up.
Evening up with the cab of the truck, Blake already had prepped, window down. Was it wishful thinking, wanting to be a willing victim to objects hurled inside his car?
"Hey," Blake was aware of the dude's voice this time, "don't forget to fasten your seat belt...cop up ahead!"
Not only did he get a beep, like to move or get off on the shoulder, but so did the truck. However, Blake felt compelled to stay at his own speed, allowing the truck to hit the gas. What stirred his mind now, became reality, thinking of having his seat belt unbuckled and... "oh shit, was it that big?"
Blake wasn't thinking of hard nips, dropping his right hand into his lap, making a `package check'.
Feeling around, he comments to himself, "nah." Small, compared to how hard he can really get, under more lucrative circumstances.
When he got to his next destination, the Howelland warehouse and hardware store, he pulls out his cell, checking the time now and the meeting time.
"Oh goodie, not for another half hour," said like he was talking to a passenger.
Good for a couple of reasons, Blake feels his shirt pocket, wanting to study the card flicked through his window.
Buying time back, he scours the immediate parking space. With no one in sight Blake does a crotch-check.
"Perfect," no wetness can be detected.
Really, fondling a nip made his shaft harden and Blake was confidant he had secreted some spunk, but apparently not enough to soil his pants. And that was cool, because putting on a gray suit this morning, he should have known better...that the possibility existed, sometime during the day he might get overly excited!
Early, it gave him time to dash inside the warehouse, go to the men's restroom and because it was limited to 2 urinals, adult and youngster heights, an enclosed stall, he could lock and wipe up in privacy. Though, overly conscious, he chooses to lock the door to the whole room, hogging it to himself.
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', a message, Troy McK at your service!' 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, "at your service, eh?"
"Troy McK, huh?"
Recollections, Blake pictures mostly a blank canvas. With mind on the traffic, his crotch and the card tossed into his lap, all he could visualize are 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 as to what `at your service' could entail.
Lost in himself and his predicament, Blake is suddenly jolted out of his gourd.
Barking like a bull dog, a voice bellows from outside the door, "hey, wanna hurry it up in there, guy? I gotta piss, like something fierce!"
`Just not my day,' Blake blames himself. But it made him smile, thinking it could turn out to be his day. He re-pocketed the business card. Quickly, he stuck a wad of paper towels down his pants, and swabbed.
He heard someone try the doorknob, which hurried Blake to pull out the paper towel and dispose of the soiled matter.
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, I can hear you talking on your cell. That's just wrong. I'm saying something to management!"
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 do I have to get security?"
With hell-raising on his mind, Blake smiled, thinking of waiting until the door broke off its hinges, or maybe a flood of piss seeping under the door. A grin had him speculating opening it to a dude with pants soaked around the crotch.
"Fuck you, bitch!" he caps a hand over his mouth, like maybe Blake shouldn't have said it?
Though, he wasn't unsympathetic towards a guy having to piss so bad... been there -- done that! He clicks the lock and swings the door open with attitude, "really, man?"
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 dude'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!"
What would follow, as an accusation, knocked off his feet, Blake had an arsenal of vocal warfare to wage on the dude who assaulted' him. However, he thought of cutting some slack, based on the 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, coupled by an unspoken mouthing, wo-ow'!
"Y'know, dude," the guy turns his head, hauling his underwear with one hand, pants with the other, 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?"
It was obvious, at least to the company secretary, too much attention paid to belt buckling, which had him lift his chin to a face to face position.
Fishing for words, Blake says, "of course not. What do you think I am?"
The dude suddenly had a lapse of judgement, but repairs his thoughts, "I don't know, but don't think I'm letting this go. I'm reporting this to management. There oughta be a law..."
He rambled on, but it didn't disturb Blake, other than wondering, if compared to a ruler, how the dude measured up, before and after!
After doing his business, the lad doesn't ask, blocking Blake into a small perimeter, "ya mind?"
"Help yourself," Blake turns the sink over to the fella.
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.
"Well, I'm awful sorry about that."
"You should be," the dude catches Blake in his reflection, but keeps on washing up.
Almost every worker, on every level, Blake has met. Obviously, since he didn't recognize this employee, thinking he had slipped through the grid, "how come I haven't seen you around here?"
Turning off the faucets, the dude reaches for the towel dispenser, which is empty, "figures."
A roll sitting on the second sink, Blake picks it up, "what figures?"
The dude looks at Blake, like he's eyeing him up, from neck to navel. He didn't want to give him a `thanks', let alone the time of day, but because he thought the cub wasn't half bad looking, "haven't seen me around here? Really, guy?"
Blake stands adamant, "well I haven't!"
Taking the whole fat roll, he unwinds a fair share. Almost tossing it back into Blake's chest, he says, not a thanks, but, "one of the oldest pickup lines in the book."
Fumbling over his words, Blake says audaciously, "you...you think I'm checking you out? Ha! That's preposterous!"
Perhaps Blake wasn't the only one doing the checking out!
Tossing the paper towel in the trash, the dude says, "fix your tie. You look like a slob."
Looking down himself, Blake splits his suit jacket apart, "oh really?" Without thinking he snugs up his tie at the neckline. It kind of softened his heart, that an employee, recognizable by the red vest, feeling he was wronged, took the time to help him correct his appearance, "was in the biggest hurry getting ready this morning for work. You know how that is, right?" he giggles it off.
"No," he checks his pompadour, "wouldn't know something like that," the dude was frank, "I've never had anything but a pee-on job."
Not which Blake knew of any disgruntled employees, whom would refer to themselves in such low esteem, "pee-on, is it? Hm-m," Blake rubs the bottom of his chin, "frankly, I've never witnessed an employee getting peed on before."
Slacking in his straight-shoulder position, the guy's head cocks to one side, "I can't believe you're going there."
Blake smiles. Using the same attitude, "like, I've never gotten peed on either, dah?"
Mimicking him, the dude knows he's being toyed with, "each to their own." He clears his throat, "you going to hog the only exit from the mens room?"
Standing his ground, Blake tightens up on his stance, relaxing his pose, but folding arms across his middle and dictating, "I might just decide to hold you hostage."
The muscled Italian just stood there, making heads nor tails of where the `suit' was going with this, though thinking about that hint of chest hair he witnessed moments ago, coupled with the slightly rounded stomach, a favorable opinion could be all that was needed to erase a mans animosity towards another.
Making his own mind up, the Howelland red vest got close enough to the `suit', till they were seconds from crushing!
Too close to turn around, their lips met.
Backing away, the Italian says, "I knew you wanted me."
Right after saying it, the dude weaves arms in between Blake's arms and sides, pressing lips together.
Breaking apart, Blake says, "like, who wants who?"
The dude smiles, "something like that."
Gone was all the hate and hurt, replaced by an angelic face.
"Hm, well they say confession is good for the soul?"
Knowing he was being pressured to bare all, the dude says, "I saw you come in here, but wasn't sure whether I would dig you or not, until face to face."
"Well," Blake says, "you dig me?"
"From what I see now, but I'd sure like to see more?"
No doubt he was cocky and didn't know who Blake was, other than just another customer, or possibly a vendor, "what time you get off work?"
"I don't know if I can wait that long," he starts fidgeting with his belt buckle.
"Ahem," Blake clears his throat, catching up the dudes hands with his own, "what's your name?"
"Marco."
"Well, Marco, I would feel more comfortable continuing this outside of work?"
It then dawns on Marco, the possibility of not being a customer, "you work here? I thought maybe you were a sales rep, or?"
"Try, `secretary to Mr. Howelland'?"
Like his fingertips had been glued to Blake's belt buckle, "oh shit!"
It's not like Blake hadn't been turned on since Marco entered the men's lav, "'oh shit' is right, buster and if you don't agree to meet at my place after work, it's going to get even shittier!"
Because Blake was smiling, it caused Marco to not only blush, but change from the horrid surprise to a more jolly disposition, "then you're not mad?"
"Of course not," Blake slips the tip of his belt back into the buckle, "but one question."
"Sure. Fire away."
"How many other times couldn't you wait to pee so bad?"
"That part was true." That tall muscled position giving way to a slackened posture, Marco says, "I swear. This is the first time I've tried anything like this...well, here."
It made Blake smile, "well I'd sure like to hear about the `other' places where you've picked up men?!"
Blake wasn't any angel when it came to that!
Turned on, Marco goes for it, "my place or yours?"
"What time you get off the job?"
"9pm."
Walking the hallway, Blake says, "not anymore. From now on quitting time is at 6."
Marco questions, "wait. Are you allowed to do that?"
"Of course. I have as more power in the pinkie," Blake holds up his left hand, "than the personnel manager has in his whole bod!"
More anxious of laying eyes on Blake's naked bod, "I almost can't wait till quitting time."
In the business sector for at least ten years, Blake knows a good investment when he sees it, "I agree." Then, vibration in his pocket, Blake notices it not the reaction he got with Marco, "I gotta take this call," he whizzes off to a secluded area of the hallway.
Seeing Marco standing there, another employee approaches, "hey Carbone, you're not getting paid to stand there looking like a statue?"
Marco has a double take. Of course he knew how the floor manager looked, but under the duress of his recent encounter, hadn't made the comparison, "wow, it's uncanny."
It made the floor manager back off, except the attitude, "of what?"
"You and the...the...I'm not sure what he does, but you and him...you could be brothers."
Blake appearing, hand still in pocket, putting his phone away, "oh, I see you have met."
Side by side, Marco was even more baffled. His manager, Barry, and Blake, they could have been born on the same day, same year.
Barry, realizing something which is not uncommon, the resemblance, "okay, we're brothers. Now, you want to get back to work, Carbone. I have a list of stuff which needs to be done, hanging on the bulletin board."
Ever since they were kids, Blake loved tearing up his older brother. Being he had a closer relationship to the CEO of Howelland Landscape and Hardware, meant he could throw his weight around, "give it to someone else."
Maybe when they were kids, Barry could bully his younger brother, but since not only was Blake higher up on the ladder, but also responsible in getting him his job, "I see."
It didn't please Barry and Blake knew this, but also recalling flashbacks to being verbally and physically abused, "so," he shucks it off, "go find someone else!"
"Yeah, right," Barry marches off.
"I take it you don't get along very well?" Marco remarks.
"More now than when growing up. That's a horror story I hope to forget."
Like a wise man, Marco says, "I think we all have stories like that to tell."
Blake thought Marco didn't look the type, being muscular, but knew bullies and the bullied, it didn't stick to boundaries, "we'll have to swap stories sometime."
The two getting along quite oppositely than moments ago, "I'd like that."
"Okay, well I better get going to my meeting."
Not really wanting to, Marco says, "right. I better get back to...work."
They part company, walking opposite ends of the hallway.
Blake making an about face, "on second thought, Marco, there's hardly any time to get involved in a project. Why don't you accompany me?"
"Like this?" Marco says. "I'm hardly dressed as the corporate type?"
Glancing back, Blake's mind dallied between wanting to see Marco undressed and reality, "give me a second," he whips out his phone.
Overhearing the conversation, Marco hears Blake say something about postponing an interview.
"I hope I'm not the cause for someone not getting a job here?"
As if mentoring Marco, Blake places a hand on his shoulder, steering him back to the backdrop of the hardware store, "not really, but certainly I shouldn't wait to have you replaced!"
"Replaced? Like, where am I going?"
"We'll think about that at my place, that is, if you pass phase two of the interview!"
They almost made it to the rear exit, when Blake snaps his fingers, "damn!"
Unleashing Marco's shoulder, Blake makes a turnabout.
Marco questions, "what's up?"
Blake was torn, between a responsible act of checking off his list, why he came to the warehouse store, which didn't include the hot guys who worked there. That was fringe benefits!
Facing Marco, "if I don't do this one thing, I know I'll hear about it."
"Oh?"
Feeling more explanation was needed, "call it a blessing or a curse, some of the guys who work here, I gave out my cell number, in case, `you know'?"
Marco smiles, saying, "and when did you intend on giving it to me, like, after you found out how I can `rise to the occasion'?"
"No," Blake says it like he means it. "Well, maybe!"
Looking upon that heavenly face, beard responding to the stretch of a smile, Marco shows he's not angry, "I oughta take you over my knee and give you a whoopin' you'll never forget!"
What Marco doesn't expect, "mm-m, a man after a my own heart!"
Quite by accident, Marco, who was previously only into cuddling, kissing, getting hard and releasing pent up energy, found what other men liked, on the way to an orgasm. An adventurer at heart, not only ass, he's branched out, a muscle man's beefy pecs or making a stomach red. If he sees his muscleman getting a jolt out of it, he'll spank biceps, thighs, etc. However, it all generally leads back to the same goal, `divide and conquer'!
Now, with an even greater urge to get back to Blake's pad, "well, you better get on with that last detail?"
Blake knew what drove him on through the maze of the warehouse, an almost stinging sensation, a lust to have Marco's big hand tanning his hide, and what followed.
"The locker room?"
Busting the door open and walking right in, Blake says, "yeah, the downside of giving out my cell number for one reason, often I'm plagued by complaints, complaints, complaints!"
Wishful thinking, "I hope the complaints are about work and not play?"
Entering, Blake turns abruptly, "might be at home too and I hope you know how to deal with bad boys?"
Jolt was not strong enough to describe what the 28-year old muscle man was thinking right now!
Unaware of the situation, Blake turns a corner to discover complaints hurled in his face.
"Fuck, don't you ever answer your texts?"
"Oops," Blake says, then backs down, "I swear Lefti, I've been meaning to."
Since laying eyes on Lefti, towel-waisted like it was ready to slip, he's beginning to get mesmerized.
Then, from gazing at Blake, Lefti takes notice, being checked out. Sweeping Blake's left arm, gently moving the exec out of the way, says, "I haven't seen you around here before?"
Classic line, Marco's heard them all before, "now that's a damn shame, buddy."
Lefti puts his hand out for a hearty handshake.
Having another plan at greeting the muscle bear, Marco reaches up to the moss covering Lefti's pecs and toys with his nips!
"Oh shit!"
No doubt Blake, standing there like a statue, is ready to pop a boner, watching Lefti's jaw drop in awe!
A week or so ago he had witnessed one of the frat boys give just one of Lefti's nips a tweak, getting his hand abruptly swatted away and issued a verbal warning. Now here he stands, the 6'2 muscle bear watching in awe as Marco's fingers at first massage, then massacre both nips!
"Fuck, why'd ya stop," Lefti feels up both pecs, after Marco stops tweaking his perky spots.
Rather than divulge all his secrets, Marco says, "that's just a sample of what I sell."
"Sell?" Lefti remarks.
"You have Blake's phone number, right?"
"Yeah," Lefti, who at a few times in his life has felt dumbfounded, "I got it."
"Give him a call and make an appointment."
Lefti feels up his pecs, which makes his towel drop!
"Oh my," Blake says.
"I'll say," one of those standing in the cue says, watching Lefti bend over.
Marco's eyes strained to look over Lefti's backside!
Then, behind them, two `old men' show up, toweled at the waist.
"Oh no," one of the salt-and-pepper types complains, the other, "not again!"
Standing on the sidelines, trying to contain himself, the exec comes into focus, "Blake, how many grievances do I have to file, before action is taken?"
Marco likes the fracas which ensues. Muscles, muscle-bears, otters, or a little out of shape, he likes all physiques which can give his shaft a jolt.
Glad he took Marco's advice at addressing the one detail he's been avoiding for weeks, Blake steps forward, "why I'm here today, is to answer all your questions," which right now, not having looked into the problem of one shower stall per 20 or more men, wanting to wash off the days grime.
"I hear ya," Blake sounded sketchy, concerned about how he was going to solve a problem, whereas he didn't have the research to back it up. Instead of himself, he instantly promotes Marco, "that's why I've opened up a new position. Marco here will field all your questions."
At first, Marco gives Blake `what-the-hell-is-this?' look, accompanied by a frown of nastiness, but then turns it into a smile. Raised brows, Marco retorts, "I am? I will?" Seeing Blake standing there, not helping him out, "but nothing comes for free," Marco throws out there.
However, he's interrupted, when from behind the shower stall door comes, sopping wet, Peter and and the makeshift plumber, Andrei saying, "oh, hi," turning to Blake, "shower's all fixed, I'll send you the bill!"
"I see what you mean," one of the salt and pepper dudes says, about nothin' coming for nothing, which also gave time for him to study the `plumber'.
Looking at it as an in, not the kind where he likes poking his 8-inches into another man's business, Marco says, "oh good, a plumber."
Certainly, if any of the men were not hard, by now they were starting to feel the compulsiveness, five half-naked men, a suit and Marco in his company red vest, standing there for a spur-of-the-moment meeting.
The other of the salt-and-pepper duo, reacts in a sassy tone, "well, at least we don't have to guess what the holdup is...was!"
"Apparently," the first word out of Blake, eyeing up Peter and Andrei.
Like he's already established for himself, Marco not biased by age, physique, nor attitude, offers a hand to the gentleman standing behind Lefti, "we haven't met. Marco Carbone."
Blake was all ears and eyes, watching as the man he knows as John MacKenzie', shaking Marco's hand. John turns around, introducing him to Ethan Schlosser-Dray'.
It's almost too much for Marco to handle, second day on the job, promoted to an unknown titled position, but for argument's sake, Blake's assistant, then... faced with a hot muscle-dad', manager of the paint department and his assistant, muscle-cub-Ethan', it's a bit overwhelming trying not to overthink the situation!
"Great to meet you too, uh..."
So mesmerized by the beauty before him, "Ethan," which Ethan adds, "I hope we can become good friends."
Perhaps a little jealous, the other one, John, says, "he says that to all the guys he meets for the first time."
Defending himself, Ethan says, "jealous, John?"
"Maybe," John returns his focus to Marco. Changing course, "so, you into `bear-folk'?"
Really not wanting this conversation to get dead-ended, Marco says, "wow, you're a mind reader!"
Anxious, Ethan adds, "cool, let's get it on!"
"Wait," Marco thinks on it, "you two a couple?"
"Friends," John replies.
Rather than prolong things, Ethan says, "friends who can get into some three-way-play, if you're into it?"
Marco had the feeling this had happened with some soul before, but his shaft was grinding against the fabric of his pants, just thinking about the possibilities, "into it, eh, like how would you mean that?"
Meanwhile, Lefti had been conversing with Andrei, Peter looking on, "let me get this straight," Blake questions ethics, "you're getting the parts free from the store, but even though you were on company time, you want to charge me $200 for fixing a shower head?"
"That's my price," Andrei stands there adamant, arms folded over the fringe of his nicely developed, ginger pecs.
Knowing he was getting ripped off, Blake again nervously strokes his short, stubby beard, but concedes, "I guess if that's your final offer?"
"That, or I'm emailing Judge Ross."
Lefti, striking up conversation with Peter, stops, "oh, he's so gorgeous!"
"I don't think I know him," Peter throws it out there.
Didn't phase Blake, but he concedes, on account of Andrei being one of the hottest employees on payroll, "hmm, I guess my hands are tied."
Cracking a smile, Andrei says, "that can be arranged too?!"
Not which he couldn't get into a little bondage mix, Blake says, "oh? And I'm sure that comes with a price as well?"
Dropping his arms, seeing he's won out, Andrei responds with a smile, "of course!"
To an onlooker, it would look like the meeting of the minds and the mindless had broken into different factions.
Already Marco had two new friends, which meant more than going for beers after work.
Lefti and Andrei were fastly developing a friendship, which them talking about different grades of rope sold on the premises. It was a tossup, Lefti wanting to develop his tying skills, as much as Andrei.
Blake had exercised his personnel manager right and promoted not only Andrei, but Peter on his coattails. He knew the CEO of the company would frown upon his nephew being left behind, his friend moved up the ladder and pay scale. He didn't think Gaston would argue, Peter working with Andrei, gathering new plumbing skills. Would be in Peter's best interest, developing some kind of skill where he had none to boast of!
%
% 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.