Strange Bedfellows

STRANGE BEDFELLOWS

CHAPTER TWENTY

Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction, that is loosely based on the author's experiences while a college student. It contains sometimes graphic depictions of consensual sex between men and men, and between men and women. If it is illegal for you to read or possess such material, then please find something else to read. The author retains complete rights to the work, and it may not be reposted, reproduced and published without the expressed consent of the author.

It was good to be back. The time at home during Christmas break had been great, but it felt good to be back.

Scott exited I-94 onto East Washington Avenue, and began the five-mile home stretch back to the dorm at the end of his Christmas break. It's a nearly straight line from the freeway to the center of downtown Madison and the beautiful capitol dome, brilliantly lit and standing proud on his horizon. That view still gave him goose bumps.

In a very short time, Scott had come to love Madison, Wisconsin. What wasn't to love? To him, of course, the city's heart and soul was the University campus. But it was so much more. It had a diverse population from all over the globe, a vibrant arts community, local politics and sports worth paying attention to. The center of the city was bordered by two large lakes that provided great recreational opportunities, and they created an isthmus of a downtown, with the State Capitol at its center. It was just the right blend of rural and small urban, high-brow and low-brow, white collar and blue collar. The student body on the campus was over eight times larger than the small town he still called home, but he was quickly adopting these surroundings as his own.

He drove past The Avenue Bar and recalled his first real date, and first sexual romp, with Kelly Abbott. A week ago or so, he'd been worrying about seeing her again, but now he relished the memories of that first fantastic night together, and looked forward to getting together with her soon.

Rounding the capitol square, he decided to take the scenic route, so he drove toward Lake Mendota and Langdon Street. "Fraternity Row." The place was beginning to come back to life with the return of students to campus following the holidays. A few lights were on in some of the windows of the Greek houses. He slowed past the frat house that Kip Monmouth seemed to dominate at times, and thought he saw that particular asshole carrying a box up the front walk. A few young beauties stood out front of Kelly's house, exchanging hugs to welcome each other back. Kelly's room faced the lake out back, so there was no way to tell if she was back yet, even if there had been a light on in the window.

Turning left onto Lake Street, driving toward the dorm, he stopped at the intersection with State. He smirked as he recalled Halloween weekend on State and the orgy that had followed. Glancing right, he squinted toward Bascom Hill. He could barely make out the contour of Mr. Lincoln, stoically watching over the hill and its environs. Behind Mr. Lincoln, the lit façade of Bascom Hall proclaimed the stately grandeur of the University of Wisconsin. Within those walls were the offices of Randy Oakes and Dr. Ellison Cushing. He felt indebted to, but very much challenged, by those two men, but for very different reasons.

Even though the break had been much needed, and the time at home had been wonderful, it was good to be back. He mulled over the past few weeks, counting his good fortune, and the challenges that lay ahead.

After a relatively calm and quiet Christmas Day, with Evelyn joining them all at the house, father and son sat staring at the chess set that had been a gift from Scotty. Big Scott moved his king's rook forward. It was the sixth move of the game, and Scotty was frowning. The old man, it seemed, was going to take him to school again. Big Scott hid a smirk. You're too predictable,' he thought. I love you dearly, but you're too damned predictable.' The father nodded and concealed a slight smile as the son made another move, sliding a pawn forward one square.

Scotty scanned his dad's face looking for some sense of his judgment. Nothing. He was good. `Too bad they don't play chess in Vegas,' Scotty mused.

"Still pissed at me?" That frickin' knight that Scott had been dodging was shifted up and over, again.

Ella Fitzgerald's voice wafted through the room, a CD that was another cherished gift from his son.

"Not really pissed, I guess." He moved his own knight to protect the queen. "Just still befuddled..."

Big Scott let the smile show now, and sang along with her, badly. "Bewitched, bothered and bewildered?" Big Scott shifted another one of his pawns to take one of Scotty's.

The son snorted a short chuckle. "Yeah, I guess." He avenged the loss by taking the offending pawn with one of his own, then furrowed his brow as he stared at the board, trying mightily to discern what his dad was up to in the game.

"Well, what is it, Scotty? What's got your shorts in a bind?" His dad's brows arched in a plea for complete honesty. "I mean, we got through a good Christmas here, thankfully. Your mom and me are all good, but you're all still bent out of shape. It's clear. You're distant. We both see it and feel it. What's in your head son?"

"Oh, shit, Dad! It's just that I still have that lurking feeling that you're gonna run for office, and probably win, with Maureen's support, and it's like I feel you're doing it...like, you're all doing it... just to hold down the seat for the day you see me starting my own political career. Like, I'll just be ready to walk into the same office. Just because I have your name."

His queen's bishop was moved back, deeper into his own half of the board. Big Scott cleared his throat and swallowed. "Wow. I never dreamed that having my name could be such a fricking curse." The son gasped, but hadn't even exhaled before the father rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Sorry. I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

"No! Dad! Say what you mean, and mean what you say. You've always said that."

Big Scott's head continued to pivot. "No. I didn't mean that. I know what you're getting at, and what I just said was low. I'm sorry. I really am."

"Don't sweat it. I guess I needed to hear it." Scott cleared his throat, then sighed, before capturing the knight. "I don't wanna flip off you and Mom and the family name, and Maureen and all, and you know I don't mean to turn my back on your best intentions..." he was starting to sweat. "And, it's not like I don't realize and appreciate your love and interest in my future, it's just that I want to...you know...I want to make it on my own."

Big Scott moved his queen's bishop half way across the diagonal of the board. "I know you do, son, I know, and I'm proud of you for that. By the way," he nodded at the board. Check and mate." He sat back and grinned, and dropped both hands onto his knees.

Scott stared blankly at the board. He hadn't seen that coming. He ruefully shook his head and glanced back at his father. "Some day, I'm gonna kick your ass."

Big Scott chuckled. "Some day, son, I got a feeling you're going to kick a lot of ass."

"So, Wade, what's on the menu tonight?" Scott continued to brush his grandma's white locks as she sat, eyes closed, smiling sublimely. She'd been better lately, much better, and Scott was grateful that the holidays had brought him a more lucid, in-tune Evelyn Turner than he'd seen at the end of his Thanksgiving visit.

"Well, Mr. Turner, tonight is chicken stir fry with brown rice."

"With pineapple upside down cake for dessert." Evelyn opened one eye and looked at one of her best friends. "With Cool Whip, right?"

Wade winked back. "Yes ma'am. Lots of Cool Whip."

She gave him a thumbs up. "And coffee?"

"Hot, black and strong, Ms. Evelyn. Just like you like your men." He grinned at his favorite patient.

Evelyn put her fingertips to her lips and stuffed in a laugh. She'd used that old line about men and coffee when he'd first started working her wing. She was still a bit embarrassed by his use of her own smart-assed words and her early effort to shock the new orderly. Wade, on the other hand, loved it.

Scott shook his head, and blushed a bit for her. "How long Wade?" He checked his watch.

"Coupla hours, Scott. It's only three, now. We don't start serving til five. Your gran' is always last on the rotation, cuz she likes to eat a little later."

"He's a good guy, Scotty. Cut him some slack. Wade takes good care of me, even when I'm nuts."

Both men smiled, first at her, then at each other. "Cool." Scott nodded at the orderly, and admired him immensely, then looked back at his grandmother. "Gran. I gotta run downtown and pick up some groceries for tonight. My buddy's coming up from Rockford, and I'm gonna grill us a couple a steaks. But, then I'll be back for Jeopardy and some stir fry with my gal. How's that sound?"

Evelyn chuckled and opened both eyes. "It'd sound better if you were gonna bring back some hootch. I want a drink. What d'ya say, Wade? You gonna narc us out if my date makes me a drink before dinner?"

Scott gave her a blank gaze for several seconds then looked back at Wade, brows arched and shoulders shrugging. "With her meds...would it kill her or anything?"

The orderly glanced over his shoulder toward the door, then half-whispered, "Ain't nothing gonna kill this woman, Scotty. She's gonna bury us both." He winked and lipped `bourbon,' then looked back at the saintly woman. "And, she's gonna bitch me out all the way to my grave, about somethin' or other."

Evelyn fumbled around the afghan at her lap, looking for the remote control. "It's gonna be about those starchy shittin' sheets, I keep tellin' you. Goddammit! Scotty. Bring back some fabric softener, will you? These bastards are trying to kill me with sandpaper bedding."

Scott checked his watch again. "Look, Gran. I gotta go if I'm gonna get this done. I'll be back in about an hour. Take a nap, or whatever you old bags do."

Evelyn flipped him off as he patted Wade's shoulder on his way out the door.

"This fucking thing!" Big Scott was on the ladder, gripping the tiny light fixture between his forefinger and thumb, cussing at the little green light that had just broken off between his other thumb and forefinger. "One goddam little goddam light, and the whole fucking string..." He dropped the shards of broken, painted glass into the hedges below, and began to wipe his running nose with the back of his gloved hand.

"Wwwwrrruuuuuuuhhhhhh...wwwrrruuuuuhhhhhhh!"

"Shit!" The ladder shook and Scott grabbed for the roof's gutter as the car horn blared in the driveway. "What the hell?!" His head swung around and the wide whites of his eyes gazed over his shoulder.

The car door slammed. "You must be the famous `Big Scott' Turner!! How's it goin' my man?"

Scott slowly turned his feet on the ladder wrung, and grabbed the top seat for some measure of stability. "And, if I'm any judge at all, you've got to be Marty Anderson."

Marty's fingertips hit his brow and he shot forth a quick salute. "Yes sir! Mr. Turner. You're a pretty good judge. Found myself in the neighborhood, and thought I'd drop by and say `hey.' You didn't just shit your pants, did you?"

Big Scott laughed, and steam gushed from between his lips. "Not quite, but close." He stepped slowly, one rung at a time down the ladder, and breathed a sigh of relief when he hit solid ground. He slapped his gloved hands together, then removed the right one as he stepped forward to extend the bare hand. "Scotty said you were coming by tonight. But, early or not, it's great to finally meet you, Marty! Really great! We've heard a lot about you."

Marty took the hand and grasped the father's forearm with the other. "All lies, you know. Your son's a notorious story teller, Mr. Turner. I'm not quite the s.o.b. he's probably told you I am."

"Bullshit!" Big Scott shook the hand warmly. "My son doesn't lie. And, I like a good sonofabitch, with a sense of humor and a plausible defense. It's how I make my living, you know."

Marty winked. "We're gonna get along just fine, Mr. Turner."

"It's Scott, if you don't mind. But that could get confusing with both me and Scotty around."

Marty's smile widened, and he winked again. "Not to worry. I usually call him `Bitch.'"

Big Scott gasped and guffawed, threw an arm around Marty's shoulder and led him toward the porch. "Well, the boy has gone to visit his grandma for the afternoon, but shouldn't be gone too much longer. Come on in for a bit."

Scott slammed the car door and turned up his collar against the brisk December wind. It was sunny, but dry and cold and breezy, even by Wisconsin's winter standards. He opened the door and reached in to grab the bottle off of the seat. He said a silent thanks to his old high school buddy, Mitch, who'd sold it to him at the family's liquor store. He was a good guy, and Scotty didn't take advantage of the friendship very often. Besides, Mitch had always liked his Gran.

Wade was chatting it up with another of the nursing home's employees, and it looked like he was making a move on her as Scott rounded the corner. So, he just patted the crook of his arm that held the bottle. Wade nodded and waved with a grin, and then went back to his conversation.

A few feet from the door, Scott heard his grandma's voice. "Seven."

A familiar voice responded. "Fifteen, for two." His eyes widened and a broad smile flashed, `Marty!'

Scott stopped and listened.

"Shit! Twenty five." Evelyn snapped a card down onto the table.

"Thirty one, for another two. Ha!"

"Go to hell, you little bastard!" It sounded like Evelyn was losing this hand.

Scott neared the doorway, and stopped sharp. He leaned to his right and rested his full weight into the frame. Marty's eye's shifted right as Evelyn counted her hand, and his fingers motioned Scotty to pause where he was. "Go ahead an count, Grandma. It's not like it's gonna do you a lotta good, ya' know."

"Screw you, ya' friggin' punk! Fifteen-two, fifteen-four and eight for twelve. All I got." After moving a peg forward twelve holes, she slurped from her Styrofoam cup.

Marty cackled. "Sad." He took a sip from his own white cup and sighed. "Fifteen-two, fifteen-four, fifteen-six and a double-double for another sixteen is twenty-two." He shook his head and shrugged. "Sad, really. I'm starting to feel guilty." Marty smirked as he moved one peg way ahead of the other.

Evelyn pointed right between Marty's eyes. "Now, listen, you little fucker! You want to try to beat me at my best game, then give it all you got! But don't feel guilty." She giggled and wiped her nose with a Kleenex, then took another sip

.

Scott moved back a half a step, so he was mostly in the darkened hallway, and put a hand up on the corner of the doorway.

Marty's eyes got wide again as she shuffled the deck. "So, Evelyn, did you really mean Wallace...as in Mike Wallace...the `Sixty Minutes' Mike Wallace?"

Evelyn waved a hand to dismiss the thought. "A twerp. A friggin' lightweight. Every nutless shithead who ever ran into that dope, knocking on his or her door...or who got caught in their headlights, was smitten by the camera and the asshole's supposed charm."

"And you actually told him to fuck off?"

"Hell yes! Of course it never aired. They were doing a piece about Love Canal, and I was there to give `em all hell for the crimes committed against those poor folks, and that poor bastard's producer decided that she wanted to interview me. So, I sat down, listened to a few of his insipid questions and finally just told him to fuck off. He just scowled at the new gal who was producing the story, shook his head at me, then got up and left.

Chicken shit! Never made the story of course." She held up her glass and Marty uncorked the bottle of Maker's Mark, and poured a few fingers of the top shelf bourbon. Evelyn patted his hand in return. "You're a good boy."

Scotty cleared his throat. "No, he's not, Gran.'" He stepped into the room. "He's not a good boy. He's a shit. Through and through. Can't Wade do something about who comes wandering in and out of here?"

Marty had already set down his cards and was standing, arms outstretched, and Scott walked directly into him, their chests meeting and cheeks mashing in a warm hug. Both men laughed.

"You're early! I wasn't expecting you `til this evening!"

"Yeah, I was supposed to watch Ashley for the whole afternoon, but they were over-staffed for the day shift at the restaurant, and Jill hasn't had much time off lately, so she asked to go early and cut me loose at about eleven. I grabbed an early lunch with Mom, then decided to hit the road." He sat back down and looked again at the hand he'd been dealt, as Scott perched his butt on the foot of the mattress. "So, I found your place, nearly frightened your old man off the ladder while he was fixin' the lights..."

Scott smiled and nodded. "Yeah, Mom was givin' him hell `cuz the lights weren't blinking and told him that a couple bulbs needed changing."

"Evelyn snorted and shook her head. "It's two days after Christmas, for Pete's sake! Your mother and her lights!"

Marty continued. "So, I sat and shot the breeze with Big Scott for a few, had a cup of coffee, and he told me I'd probably find you out here. Got here about a half-hour ago, met my newest girlfriend here," Evelyn swatted his knee and giggled, "and I was silly enough to challenge her to a game of cribbage."

Evelyn took another sip, and with her nose still in the cup, observed "Just silly? You're being kind to yourself, son. Some would say you're suicidal takin' me on!" They exchanged winks.

Scott shook his head and took the glass from Evelyn to observe its contents. "And you beat me to the punch in wanting to get the old gal snockered for the holidays, eh?"

Marty grabbed a third cup from the table next to Evelyn's bed, and poured a few inches. "Least I could do. She said she was waiting for you to come back so she could have a little snort, and I just happened to have a good bottle in the car, so..." He shrugged, and added some ice from the small pitcher Wade had brought in, and handed it to Scott. He raised his glass, and Scott mirrored the gesture. "To Evelyn Turner, coolest old broad I ever met."

Scott's smile was a wide one. "Here, here! To my Gran!"

Evelyn raised her own glass and beamed, then joined the guys in a sip to herself. "Damned straight! To me!"

The card game resumed and the three chatted and laughed and teased each other. Both guys peppered Evelyn with questions about her glory days on the front lines of the good fights. Scott had heard most of the stories many times before, but was happy to encourage his grandmother with "And, tell him about the time you...," and she regaled them both with her accounts of meeting Rosa Parks and Dr. King's widow, of voter registration efforts throughout the South, and a lot of the other fine print of the history books they both recalled.

Finally, Marty set down his cup and stood. "Well, folks, I gotta use the bathroom. Where's the head?"

Evelyn pointed to a door behind him. "Well, son, you can't use that one. My unmentionables are hangin' all over the place in there, and we just met. You aren't gonna be staring at a pair of my undies while you pee." Her speech was slightly slurred, and she giggled. "Not on the first date, anyway."

Marty giggled and winked at her. "Next time?"

"If you play your cards right, old Evelyn might have a little sump'n sump'n for ya' next time ya' come to visit." She winked back.

Even Scott blushed. "Uhm..." He cleared his throat. "Down the hall toward the front desk, on the right, there's a men's room."

Marty smiled, nodded and carefully walked through the door.

Evelyn's gaze followed her new friend. "He's a nice boy, Scotty. He's special."

Scott inhaled and held it for a second. "Yeah, Gran'. He's my best bud."

They were both silent for a second, and Evelyn slowly surveyed her grandson's face. "So...you have your Kelly. Marty told me about his Jill and little Ashley. And the two of you have each other. Quite an interesting mix, Scotty." Scott pursed his lips as Evelyn's hand covered his. "So, where do you see it all going?" She squeezed his hand a little, questioning him with her eyes.

Scott was jolted for an instant, but not terribly surprised by her question. He exhaled his surrender, not willing to even try to waffle or bullshit his Gran. He recalled once again the incident when she'd busted him for sneaking into the theater without paying. Nevertheless, he wasn't at all comfortable with the question, either. "Don't know, Gran. Just don't know. I mean, he's...that is...we're..." All he could do is shrug.

She patted his hand. "You're special friends; very special friends. That's clear to me. I can see these things, Scotty. I knew your grandpa was going to propose to me the first time we ever went out on a date. I saw your Dad's infatuation for Maureen petering out months before he knew it was happening. I don't quite know it all, but it's clear to me that the two of you need each other."

"Yeah...I guess that's it. We do. We're a great team. I don't think either one of us really knows for sure..."

Evelyn waved a hand. "Don't worry about it, Scotty. You don't have to explain anything to me, especially if you're still a bit confused about it. You know, confusion is the bookends of our lives. As kids--and you are still a `big kid' to me—we get to battle with confusion. Before you know it, you're an old coot like me, and you're confused again. The reasons are different, but the confusion is still very real. The magic is in how you handle it, if you can."

Scott looked deep into her sparkling eyes, hoping to find some answers, but he didn't say a word.

Finally, Evelyn broke the silence. "Just don't let anybody get hurt." She took another sip from her cup. "Unless, of course, they have it coming." She smiled wryly, before taking a deep breath. "And even then, there has to be a higher purpose. Don't ever hurt somebody else unless they're giving you no choice, because they're choosing to be assholes, and you're trying to right a wrong or just honestly trying to do the right thing. I spent some serious time in my day afflicting the bad guys with no small measure of discomfort, but that was only cuz they were digging in their heels and causing pain to others. I tried not to do harm for the sake of doing harm, and I probably don't have to hope that you'll follow suit. But, if I die tonight, I'll know I only bruised the bastards who were asking for it. Not for personal gain. Not for spite. Only cuz they gave me no choice. Then, it's not quite okay, but it's forgivable."

Marty had been leaning against the doorway, arms folded, and he marveled at her wisdon, her determination and her continuing adoration of her grandson.

She didn't turn her head to recognize him, nor even shift her eyes. "Don't you agree, Marty?"

He clenched his eyes and teeth in a smile, and fought off the urge to laugh out loud. After a good, deep breath, he looked back at her beaming presence. "You got that so right, I think, but what the hell do I know? You're the sage in this room, my dear." He stepped forward and placed his right hand in between both of hers, extended from her bedside, then laid the left on top. "And it'll be a cold day in Hell before I ever take issue with anything you ever say. You're the real deal, Evelyn, and it's been an honor and a privilege to have met you. And, I look forward to many more story sessions."

Scotty pursed his lips and he glowed over the kinship his two best friends had found so quickly. He wasn't surprised, merely satisfied. Completely satisfied.

Evelyn blinked quickly to mop her eyes, then slid back into her usual persona. "Shit, son!" She nodded to her right toward Scott and winked. "If this little shit hadn't so rudely interrupted us I'da given you more than stories about Mike Wallace to bring back to Madison with you."

Marty shook his head and giggled out loud. "Well, I gotta head back to Rockford tomorrow anyway. Maybe I can stop by on my way out of town." He winked at her. "Think we can get big old Wade to guard the door for an hour or so?"

Her eyes went to the ceiling as if thinking, then she leered back at Marty. "Just call first. I might be busy tomorrow afternoon, if Big Jim' down the hall makes it through the night." She waved her free hand. "Ya' never know, though, and I don't want to be the cause of his demise, you know. Specially not on Salsbury Steak day!"

Scott rubbed his eyes and shook his head. "Okay! Okay! You two win!!! I'm blushing now!! Jeeeeez! Marty!! Get me the hell out of here, will you? Now?!"

Marty looked up at him for the first time in several minutes. "You're cookin' dinner, right? What're we havin'?" He looked back at Evelyn. "Can this mope even cook, Gran'? Do I wanna even eat his food?"

Evelyn nodded. "Me and his mom taught him everything he knows in the kitchen, and we taught him plenty, so you're in good hands. And, he said he was goin' out to pick up some steaks before you got here, and it's pretty hard to screw that up. He makes a helluva twice-baked potato with sour cream and chives, so don't settle for anything less than that. But his au gratin ain't bad either. And, don't put up with just the hash browns. They're okay, but he can do better."

Marty leaned in and kissed her cheek, just as Scott's lips touched the other one. "I love au gratin!"

She placed a hand on Marty's back, and whispered into his ear. "Take care of him Marty. Watch out for him, okay? We're doin' our best from here, but I'd like to know there's somebody lookin' over his shoulder on a regular basis, okay?"

He kissed her cheek once more. "Gotcha covered, dear. Relax." He straightened half-way up and gazed back down. "Hey, Evelyn, do ya' trust me?" He winked.

Her eyelids lowered for a couple seconds as she nodded her head. "I trust you both, but you make me feel better, sweetheart. Thank you."

As they walked through the parking lot, Scott reflected on Marty's new friendship with his grandma, and he grinned. He glanced over from the corners of his eyes. "Okay, au gratin it is, smooth-talker. Jeez, how do you do it? I'm gone for about an hour, and I get back and find one of the toughest old broads I'll ever know, eating out of your hand, and half in the bag with whiskey."

Marty just smiled and shrugged.

They got into their respective vehicles, and Marty followed Scott out of the lot.

Andy Pennington smiled sublimely as he slowly lowered his ass, impaling himself on the modest, though comfortable, and very hard cock of Christopher U. Monmouth, II. Kip's fingertips dug into his thighs and he moaned over Andy's contented sigh. Andy rested against Kip's groin, and slowly slid his hips back and forth a couple of times as he reached down and rolled Kip's nipples between each thumb and forefinger.

Andy's lawfirm had a couple of rooms at this hotel on hold most of the time, for use by out-of-town clients, but the partners were known to avail themselves of the accommodation for their own purposes now and then.

Kip focused on the dime-sized mole on the inside of Andy's upper right thigh. A beauty mark, Andy had called it the last time Kip's tongue outlined it. Then, he focused in on the tight hole that was sliding up and nearly off of his cock. "Ride my dick, Andy! Gooooooood! Yeeeesssssss!"

Andy rose and fell slowly, and leaned down to thrust his tongue in between Kip's parted lips. Kip sucked on it eagerly as Andy's hole squeezed his tool. He quickened the pace up and down on Kip's cock. After a few more plunges, Andy went upright again and began pounding Kip's pelvis in earnest. His own stiff member waved up and down with each move, until Kip grasped it, smearing a generous drizzle of precum over the head and down the length of the shaft. Andy's eyes burst open in reaction and he let out a low moan in approval.

"Fuck me, boy! Come on, dammit, drive it into me!" Andy was slamming his ass down onto Kip's upper thighs, at the same time thrusting his rock hard rod in and out of Kip's clenched fist. Kip's heels pushed deep into the mattress in an effort to force his groin skyward, deep into the tight hole that enveloped his cock. "Come on, you fucker, give...me... that...cock...you...fucker." Each word was punctuated by a slap of Andy's ass against Kip's thrusting hips.

"Oooh...ooooh...ooooh...ooooh...FUCK!" Andy's eyes burst open again just as his cock burst forth with a stream of hot, milky fluid. The initial shot of the orgasm splattered Kip's chin, the second fired onto his glistening pecs.

The other five spewed onto the heaving ribs and, finally, his abs.

Andy clenched his sphincter, and Kip's head and shoulders shot off the pillow. His mouth opened, but he could only muster a meek whine as he filled the condom with his juice. His whole body bucked and trembled throughout the gut-wrenching orgasm, and he slapped Andy's chest. Andy fell onto him and sucked most of his chin into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the load he'd just left there. Finally, he raised his head a little, and shared the deposit with his young lover.

Five minutes later, now laying on his back next to Kip, Andy wiped the sweat from his brow and sighed. "But, the table was all set for you, Kip. All you had to do is take your seat and enjoy."

Kip locked his fingers behind his head, his impressive biceps bulging as he stared up at the ceiling. "Right! And incur the endless wrath of Charles Monmouth, Sr." Then, he lied. "When we met with Scott and you detailed what the score really was on that appointment, I really thought I could talk my dad into a change of heart. He wouldn't budge. To defy him on this would've meant probably kissing my MBA goodbye. Some day, I'll be in a position to tell that plastic fucker where to go, but we're not there yet. He will not be denied, especially where his sons are concerned."

Andy got up and went into the bathroom for a damp cloth and a towel. He tossed the washcloth to Kip, who used it to wipe Andy's seed from his chest, neck and stomach. Then he slid the full condom off of his deflated member and gently wiped, then folded the spent wrapper in the cloth before handing them back to Andy.

"It's a shame. I've come to look forward to these little meetings."

Kip propped up on one elbow as Andy joined him back on the bed. "Yeah, that pic of your engorged manhood on my camera phone this afternoon was a pretty good signal, you perv."

Andy giggled. "What can I say? There's a bit of an exhibitionist in me. I thought about sending it to your email address, but didn't know who else might be able to access that."

"Not a problem there. I have my room to myself, and usually only get personal emails from there. But I'll remember to not open any from you with others around, no matter where I am. Feel free to send me more, you stud." He reached over and gently pinched a nipple. "Besides, Andy. Just `cuz I'm not going to be on the board doesn't mean we can't still enjoy these little romps any time you're coming to Madison. And it's good to keep the professional contact separate from the sex, don't you think?"

"Yeah, probably in some ways. But I was looking forward at leering at your fine package during board meetings. I was hoping to gaze at you knowingly, to try and get the bulge under your zipper to rise. It would have been fun. And, I meant it when I said you'd have been a good Regent. You'd have been a good board member. You know the university and the student body. You're bright, you could learn the inside issues quickly and would have had plenty to contribute. And, you'd have probably learned a few things along the way."

Kip rolled over onto his stomach, and scrunched a pillow up under his chest, wrapping it in his forearms. "Yeah, I appreciate that, and it'd been that'd been fun, I think. But Turner will be a good addition, too. I hate to say it, I have to admit, but he is the right guy for the job."

"Really? You think so? I've heard bits and pieces about him, and thought he handled himself pretty well at our little meeting in his office. I mean, I was basically telling him he was screwed on this appointment thing, painting him into a corner, and he withstood the whole thing in good fashion."

Kip sighed, "Yeah, pretty impressive, I guess. I think he's full of shit sometimes, and has screwed up priorities and loyalties that are kind of useless to somebody of his ability, but I can't say the guy doesn't bring something to the game. Turner's got a lot going. He's smart. More than that, he's perceptive. He reads people well. He's articulate, and can be downright charming when he needs to. He's got a nose for politics that I don't really have."

"Well, good. I guess I should look forward to working with him, then, in a professional, business capacity at least."

Kip glanced to his left with a slight smirk. "Plus, you gotta admit one other thing."

"Huh?"

Kip sighed. "He's very easy to look at."

Andy smiled. "That he is. He's hot, actually." He leaned forward and brought his lips to Kip's ear. "But not as hot as you, stud." His tongue flicked just inside the ear.

Marty had torn up half a head of lettuce for a couple of tossed salads, and was de-seeding a cucumber and a tomato to chop, while Scott was out on the patio, firing up the grill. He opened up the Makers Mark bottle again, and had mixed a couple more drinks when he heard the back door snap shut on it's spring. Scott's hands grasped both shoulders from behind and he leaned into his friend. "Glad you could make it, bud. I mean, I love being home and being with the folks and all, and spending time with Gran, but it's good to see you."

Marty leaned back into the half-embrace and smiled. "Yeah, me too. I had a great Christmas, just me and Mom, and spent a good couple days with Ashley and Jill. But, I still wanted to come up and meet the rest of your family. Your Gran's quite a lady. Had a good chat with your dad today, too, but still haven't had the chance to meet the elusive Suzanne Turner. She really does exist, doesn't she?"

Scott stirred the potatoes and returned them to the oven. "Yup. She likely got back from her office just in time for the two of them to change into their evening best and then head out to this charity thing. Dad's on the hospital's board of directors, and they do this fund raising thing every year between Christmas and New Year's. She complains, but I know she wouldn't miss it."

"And how they doin?"

Scott sipped his drink and nodded with confidence. "Good. Really good. If anything, this whole political thing and all his secrecy has given her an opportunity to sort of, uhm, assert herself again. She's normally so quiet, almost demure. But, in a weird way, this outcome, and his apologetic posture lately has affirmed her importance to the mix."

Marty's eyebrows arched. "And you and him...?"

"We're all good." He nodded again. "Had a good father-son thing the other day while he gave me my umpteenth thumping at chess. He's been properly chastised, I guess, and he knows it, but he was worried that I was still bent out of shape. He knows I have my head on straight again. Thanks to you, ya know."

Marty grinned. "Tough job, professor, but I s'pose somebody's gotta do it. Besides, I just promised Evelyn that I'd watch out for you."

Scott put the steaks on a plate and seasoned them lightly with salt and pepper. "Shit. You just promised her you'd do what you've been doing for the last four months."

He exited toward the grill once again and Marty went back to mixing the salad fixings.

Forty-five minutes later, Marty pushed the plate away, his knife and fork neatly crossed in the center. He sat back and sighed, contented. "Mmmmmmmmarveloussssss!" He patted his tummy. "My belly is happy!" He dipped a couple of fingers into his shirt pocket. "Ready for dessert?" He slid out a fat joint between his first two fingers.

Scott smiled. "Atta boy! But, not in the house, man. Let's put the plates and all this shit in the dishwasher, then grab your coat. We'll have to enjoy the `dessert' out on the back patio."

Once out back, Marty fired up the splif, and held a hefty hit in his lungs.

"So, you and your mom had a good Christmas, you said?"

Marty nodded enthusiastically, then exhaled heavily. "Yeah! One final blow-out with the fuckhead. He came by the house once he'd heard I was back in town. He's so fucking predictable. I heard his Hummer come into the driveway, then met him out in the front yard. I couldn't wait to tell him what he already knew, I guess, that I'd taken the pics of him and the whore goin' at it. Actually, I was hoping to goad him into mixin' it up with my physically. Thought it'd look good for the lawyers if he started beatin' on his kid after the cops had warned him to stay the hell away from us."

"What're you nuts?" Scott handed back the joint. "He's a pretty big guy, isn't he?"

Marty giggled as he lifted his clamped fingers to his lips "Yeah. He's quite a stud, actually. I got my build from Mom's side of the family tree." He inhaled again, then paused. "I suppose he could've done some damage, but don't think he'd have killed me or anything, but I actually wanted him to bang me up a little bit."

"What stopped it?"

"Mom heard and saw what was goin' down, so she came running out and got in between us. She told him she'd already called the cops and shouted `If you don't leave, and leave now, and leave for good, I'm gonna take your balls along with half your company!!'" Marty cackled a mean-spirited, though admiring laugh. "She's become somethin' else these past several weeks. It's like she grew a set of balls of her own all of a sudden."

"With your help, no doubt."

Marty just shrugged.

"How `bout a lesson?" Scott took the joint.

Marty grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. "You gonna teach me somethin' for a change?"

Scott coughed on the smoke as he smiled. "Pool, dummy. I'm talking about a game of pool."

In the Turner's basement, Marty's breaking shot spread the rack of balls far and wide, but nothing sank. "What're we playing for, professor?"

Scott took aim at the one ball perched near the corner. "Call your last shot. Then, winner calls the stakes."

"Ooooooohh, a real gambler, aren't you?"

The one ball dropped into the corner. He glanced up from his bent position. "Hey, I hang around with you, don't I? That's risky enough for anybody." The five slipped into the side pocket. "So, I take it you had some quality time with Jill and her daughter...is it Ashley...this week?"

Marty sipped his drink and smiled. "Yeah. The two of us went out one night, then had dinner with her folks the night before Christmas Eve. They're good people. Her dad owns and publishes several small weeklies. Those annoying advertisers and shoppers that show up all the time on the doorstep or in the mailbox. Good guy, though. The mother unit works for a local bank and she's a riot. Flirting with her was a gas."

"Whoa! Goin' to meet the parents. Soundin' pretty serious." The three ball banked off the end rail and ran all the way up into the opposite corner pocket, just missing the eight that sat perched in mid-table.

"Ballsy move, professor. Looks like you are gonna give me a lesson." Marty was impressed, but not surprised. "Not sure how serious, but Jill's great, and about the second-best mother I've ever met, next to my own. And Ashley's such a little angel. Naturally, she adores your's truly." He winked.

"So, to quote our resident wordsmith, Brett, `D'ja bang her yet?"

Marty smiled, and wiggled his brows. "Every chance we get, although that's a tough job when you have a three-year old under foot. Thank god for having all those grandparents around.

Scott's aim on the four was right on, but the English failed him, and he sunk both the target and the cue ball on the same shot. Marty breathed a sigh of relief and reached over and patted Scott on the ass. "About time, you fucking show-off. I thought you were gonna run the table."

Scott backed into his friend and looked over his shoulder. "Nah. I need to give you a shot or two, to see what you're made of." Marty nudged him forward and leaned over the table to eye the twelve ball. Scott admired his firm round ass and sleek, slim back for about the hundredth time since they'd met. He sank the next four shots, all of them pretty easy, then barely missed a tricky effort on the eleven, and ended up nudging the eight ball dangerously close to the other side pocket.

"Shit!" Scott groaned. "You're not helping things here leaving us with crap like that."

"Just makin' things interesting, my boy. That's my job. I like makin' you live on the edge a little bit now and then."

"You got that down to a science, ya' fucker, whether I want it or not."

Marty sipped again and winked. "And ya' wouldn't have it any other way." He was right, and both of them knew it.

Fifteen minutes and another drink later, the only two balls remaining on the table were the eight and the cue ball. It was Scott's shot. He leaned against the wall in confidence, arms crossed.

"Remember, call the last pocket to win, and then winner names the stakes, right? Eight ball, side pocket. This is money in the bank, so to speak." Marty rolled his eyes, and reluctantly nodded, hoping for the best, win or lose. Scott's shot rolled the eight into the side. But he'd hit it a little too hard. The cue banked off the fallen eight ball, then off the rail, and rolled left. Painfully slowly, all the way into the left corner pocket. He'd scratched on the last shot.

Both of Marty's arms wrapped around his chest from behind. "Ha! Ha fucking Ha!! Money in the bank, my ass, professor!! You coulda bet all of next year's tuition on that shot!" His hand hit the top of Scott's head and he ruffled his hair. "I get to name the stakes, huh?"

Then, before Scott could react, Marty suddenly let go of his shoulders and whacked his own forehead with the flat of his hand. "Oh, Shit!! Next year's tuition! Fuckin-A! Scott! I forgot, dude!" He bolted toward the stairs. Three steps up he looked over his shoulder. "The fuckin' mail! When I has talkin' to your dad today, the mail came. There was a letter addressed to you from the University! Big Scott didn't want to open it, but we figured what it must be. I told him I'd tell you about it! What a fuck-up!" His voice trailed off as his ass disappeared through the upstairs door into the kitchen. Scott was between the first and second steps in pursuit when Marty reappeared, thundering down the stairs. They nearly collided as Marty thrust the thin envelope into his face. "This is it! It's from the Poli-Sci Department. Ya' know what it is, right?"

Scott took the envelope and stepped back, sucking in a deep breath. "Well, they said they were gonna inform us during the break. It has to be..."

He stared at his name on the embossed delivery in his hand.

Marty tapped his forehead with his fingertips. "Open it, dummy! Open the fucker up and read it!!"

Scott sat on the couch and ran his finger under the seal, tearing open the top, and he slid out the contents. He scanned the page, then cleared his throat and swallowed hard as he blinked several times. He re-read the first paragraph aloud. "On behalf of the Political Science Department of the University of Wisconsin, I am pleased to inform you that you have been awarded the Robert M. LaFollette Scholarship for Academic Distinction. Having established yourself as a scholar of the highest commitment and caliber in just your first semester at the University, you have earned the full faith and support of the faculty that is charged with the responsibility of fostering and nurturing your collegiate pursuits. The LaFollette Scholars represent an elite group of some of the nation's finest academics, and we have every confidence that you will continue to merit membership in this exclusive cadre of our country's ablest minds and leaders. My most sincere congratulations." Marty was beaming as Scott looked up. "The rest of it is just the details of the award and a banquet coming up in March, and it's signed Ellison Cushing, PhD."

"You did it!" Marty pulled Scott into a tight embrace. "Never any doubt, Scotty! But now it's real. It's fact. It's official." He loosened his embrace and Scott backed away a little, still shaking his head. "My Scotty! An official `Scholar,'" he took the letter from him and scanned the opening paragraph "...of the highest commitment and caliber."

Scott let out a sigh, and smiled. "Wow! I'd hoped, but you know how that goes. You don't want to assume or expect and then end up crashing when it doesn't go your way. But, fucking-a, Marty, that's one hell of a chunk of change there. Dr. Cushing said it's good for as long as it takes to finish the degree, and could pave the way for actually working my way onto the faculty some day."

Marty nodded, still smiling. "Yeah, and Kel' said it could open all kinds of other doors for you, too. Quite the feather in your cap here, professor. You da man!"

Scott stood and ran his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, but I bet it comes with some pretty big expectations, too. Once you pick up a title or a piece of recognition, people expect you to produce, to be better than everybody else. There's some pressure behind something like this, Marty. In some ways, it's a little bit scary."

Marty stood up and put a hand on each of Scott's shoulders and looked him in the eye. "Bullshit! You're going to continue to knock their fucking socks off forever!" He pulled Scott back into an embrace, holding their bodies tightly together. Scott wrapped his arms tightly around his friend and he melted into the body contact.

Slowly both of their heads moved back a bit and they looked intently into each other's eyes. Marty's right hand slid up behind Scott's head and he brought their foreheads together, looking into Scott's eyes. "But, you did lose the game." He winked, as Scott smirked. Their lips came together and Marty's tongue slowly snaked between them. Scott parted his own and accepted the warm invader. Their tongues danced for most of a minute as Marty's fingers slowly stroked the back of Scott's head.

Marty pulled back a few inches and leered. "And the winner names the stakes, you said." He wiggled his eyebrows and Scott shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess I did."

Marty pushed him backward a couple steps, but never lost the contact of their embrace, until Scott's butt was resting on the edge of the pool table.

He chuckled a suggestive laugh. "Goodie! Now I get to live out a long-held fantasy. You get to help make a dream come true, buddy."

"Oh?" Scott's eyebrows arched in suspicion. "And, what would that be, Mr. Pool Shark?"

Marty leaned in and lightly kissed his lips. "Well," he pecked his lips again. "I've always," peck, "wanted," peck, "to get nailed," peck, "on a pool table," peck, "by a real," peck, "live," peck, "scholar."

Scott was leaning back on the table by now, feet on the floor, with his palms planted in the middle of the green felt. Marty's hands nudged up under his armpits, as if to lift him, and he shifted the weight to perch his ass on the rail, his feet coming off the floor. With the palms of his hands on Scott's chest, Marty signaled his friend to relax and perch back on his elbows.

He kissed Scott's chin, several times, then his neck, first on the left and then on the right, slowly nibbling his way up toward the ear. One hand on each thigh, he leaned into him with most of his weight and massaged the firm muscles in his grasp with Scott's warm, moist breath hitting his ear. Gradually, his right thumb swept over the swelling tube beneath the upper right thigh of Scott's Levi's.

"Whoa, there, Scotty! I think I just found a long lost friend."

Scott snickered. "Not lost. And, not all that long, after all."

Marty shook his head. "Fuck that! Plenty long. You're far too modest." He pushed Scott back further until his head rested in the middle of the table. Scott felt his sweatshirt being peeled upward, and instantly, Marty's tongue was dancing on his navel. Scott's eyes closed involuntarily and he sighed. The next feeling he was aware of was the tugging around his waist. Looking down, there was a grinning Marty Anderson, with two inches of leather between his teeth, tugging at Scott's belt, and he could feel Marty's hands undoing the laces of his right shoe.

He closed his eyes at about the time the second shoe hit the floor, and at about the same moment that he heard Marty spit out the belt. His friend's hands pushed his knees farther apart as the pressure of Marty's lips and chin hit his bulging crotch. Even through the denim, and the cotton of his Haines, warmth and moisture hit his now aching shaft, and he felt Marty's teeth gnawing at the pulsing rod in his pants. Marty's right index finger and thumb tweaked Scott's nipple as the other hand rubbed his thigh, all the way up to the damp mound of his jeans. Eyes still closed, he felt the pressure easing, and the sound of the zipper explained the relief.

Marty stopped teasing Scott's nipple long enough to undo his own belt, and open the front of his pants to release an already stiff, dripping cock. He stroked it four or five times before he hiked the jeans down to mid-thigh, and turned his attention back to the bulging package beneath him.

Marty finally began sliding the pants down over Scott's hips, and, in the process leaned up and planted his lips fiercely onto Scott's. They sucked each others' faces fiercely, and Scott lifted his ass off the pool table to give Marty full allowance to strip him naked. He wanted his pants off, his cock free, and his buddy's body.

Marty stood up and stripped off his own pants and shirt, while Scott did a crunch off the table and lost his sweatshirt. The two of them were finally bare, hard, wet, and getting wetter. Suddenly, Scott heard himself yell. "Ffffffffuuuuuuuuck!" He looked down at his trimmed pubes framing Marty's nose. He'd just been swallowed, to the hilt, without warning. Instincitvely, his lower legs locked around Marty's lower back and his hips began to buck. "You fucker! Gawd! Dammit, you fucker!!!" He reached down and grabbed a couple handfuls of hair, and fucked Marty's lips. "Suck that cock, motherfucker!" As far as he could, Marty bobbed his head, and he moaned.

Marty lifted his head. "Stay there," he nearly begged. He walked around the table, and was suddenly hovering of Scott, one knee on either side of his head and his palms beside his knees. Scott looked up, and immediately noticed that his buddy was now shaving his cock and balls, crotch and ass.

"Nice and smooth, bud!" Scott craned his neck upward and sucked Marty's left nut into his mouth, and spread his own legs a little wider to give Marty full access to his aching, leaking tool. Marty dove down on it, plunging the head into his throat. Scott licked his way up Marty's shaft, and finally maneuvered his mouth to allow for the eager entrance of Marty's hot meat.

For the next five minutes, the guys alternately licked and sucked on each other, each one happily fucking the other's face. Scott's hands kneaded the ass cheeks above him, slowly working the fingertips toward the pulsing pucker at their center. His middle finger found the ring and massaged it, pressing and moving in a small, tight circle. Marty sat upright and scooted his knees several inches in order to place the entry directly above Scott's face. He reached down and behind to part the firm mounds, slowly lowering himself to meet Scott's waiting tongue. "Ooooooohhhhh, yeah! That's it, Scotty. Eat me, dude! Get me nice and wet so that you can do me right." Scott's tongue fought its way into the tight hole above him. Marty swayed his hips forward and back, left and right, carefully grinding himself into Scott's face as he hummed in delight. "God!

I love that, Scott! Fuck! I love it when you eat me before you fuck me!!"

With his eyes closed, his hands slowly slid their way up and over his own flat stomach and ribs, and finally found the stiff little nipples. He gently tweaked and twisted each one as he continued to ride Scott's face.

Nearly suffocating now, Scotty slapped Marty's ass sharply and he craned his neck to free himself from the grip of Marty's cheeks. "Okay, bud, you want it? Let me get my breath so I can give you what you need!"

Marty giggled as he rolled off the table. From his jeans pocket, he swiftly retrieved a foil wrapper and small tube of lube. Scott exhaled. "Always prepared, aren't you?"

Marty handed them both to him. "Shut up and get dressed, Scotty. I want you to do me." He bent over the table, propping both forearms and elbows on the green felt. "Hurry up, man! Marty needs a good fucking!"

In moments, Scott had sheathed and lubed his iron weapon, and he gazed down at Marty's firm buns. He gave the right one a friendly smack. "Sweet ass, Marty! Goddammit, you got a sweet fucking ass, and I like the shaving."

Drooling in anticipation, Marty looked over his shoulder. "Then, fuck it, stud! Get inside of me, now!"

Scott parted his cheeks and nudged the engorged head of his member against the waiting hole. His left hand grabbed the shaft, and the right rested on the small of Marty's back. In an instant, he slid past the ring, then held it in response to Marty's sharp gasp. Marty's forehead dropped to the table's surface. "You okay, bud?" He slowly rubbed Marty's back.

"In a sec. Just gimme a sec, Scotty." He winced with some discomfort, but tingled with anticipation for the ride that was about to come. After a deep breath, he looked up. "Okay, Scotty, have at it, dude. Do me!"

Slowly, Scott drove forward, licking his lips as he watched his rod disappear into his friend. Marty moaned a quick "Ooh yeah" as the head of his cock slid over the prostate. "You're hitting home now, Scotty!"

Scott gripped both hips and withdrew, as slowly as he'd entered, and Marty's head swiveled. "Yeah, man. Gimme a good fucking, Scott! Dammit!"

He slapped the table with a flat hand. "Fuck me, professor! Gimme the pounding I need!"

Scott closed his eyes and thrust forward, and he could only grin at Marty's groan. He held it inside for a moment and shifted his weight up and down on the balls of his feet, wedging his dick up and down, left and right, deep inside. "Oooooh fuck!" Marty whimpered. Then, he began pounding, hard. With every slap of his thighs against the back of Marty's legs and his ass, he heard another whimper. "Yeah, yeah, yeah! Oh shit! Oh God! Oh fuck!" Scott bit his lower lip and tried to go a deeper with every push, and each effort was met with an ecstatic moan from his friend.

Marty's left arm bent at the elbow, and he propped his forehead on his forearm. With his right, he grabbed his own swinging dick and began to stroke. He began thrusting back a bit to meet every one of Scott's forceful moves into him.

"Hot, tight ass, Marty! Such a hot, tight fucking ass. Fuck! Not gonna last long, bud! God, you drive me crazy, you little fucker. Fucking-a, Marty!" He reached forward and grasped each one of Marty's shoulders for leverage, hammering hard as he blinked away the sweat that slid down his brow.

Marty grinned, and flexed all the right muscles around Scott's invading tool with each push into him. "Come on, stud! Let's have it, buddy! Gimme that rod, man!"

He felt Scott's body stiffen and quiver with one last forceful push. "Uuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnng!" Scott delivered several short but fierce jolts against his ass as his entire body quaked. He squealed, "Ooooohhh, God! Fuck! Oh, Marty...Goddammit!"

Marty's torso came off the table, Scott still inside of him with a hand on each shoulder, and he gripped and pounded his bright red cock. Scott's left arm wrapped around him below the neck and held him, and his right hand found a nipple and lightly pinched. "Let it go, man! Shoot that fucking load!" Scott nudged his cock upward once again and Marty exhaled a guttural moan. His load erupted, firing a white rope across the green felt. Five more convulsions of his taut body were accompanied by sprayed shots of his goo onto the surface of the table. He gasped several short but deep breaths and his body quaked several more times within Scott's firm grasp. Scott gently licked and kissed his neck, caressing his chest and his heaving abdomen at the same time, still stuck deep inside his best friend.

Once upstairs in Scott's room, after doing their best to clean up the mess in the basement, and a short but sensual shower together, Marty slid between the sheets. "You sure it's cool if I stay in here, and not in the other room?"

Scott sighed and nodded. "They never come upstairs, let alone in here." He nodded toward the door. "Just make a comment to Mom on the painting that's hanging on the wall in the guest room. She did it herself."

"Really? An artiste? Your mother?" Marty snuggled into Scott's chest and laid a knee on his thigh.

"Yeah. Always been this impulse she has. It's what gave birth to the decorator in her. She's a marvel, really, I guess. Not that I know a lot about such stuff, but her shop is big-time successful."

"I'll take another look at it after a healthy nap, then comment on it in the morning." He laid his head on Scott's chest. After several moments of silence, he glanced upward. "Hey. I was thinking about next year."

"Already?"

"Yeah. You ever thought about moving off campus?"

"All the time. The dorms aren't bad, but there's so little privacy, and the shit they serve for food over there should be a crime."

Marty patted his tummy. "Yeah, well, maybe you need to get back into the regular running routine. There's, what, about another inch around here since you started school?"

Scott snorted. "You're right, maybe closer to two. But, what about next year? What're you thinking?"

"How about you and Craig, me and Brett finding an apartment off campus?

I've scanned the rental market, and the cost wouldn't be that much more. Plus, like you said, we could do a hell of a lot better on the food end of thing for what we're paying."

"That'd be very cool." He patted Marty's back. "Are you sure it's a good idea for us to be under one roof, twenty-four seven? I'm not sure you could keep your hands off me if we had the same address."

After a naughty snicker, Marty whispered, "It'd be hard, professor, but I think we've found that we can keep this end of our relationship under wraps until the time is right."

"Let's do it. D'you talk to Brett or Craig about this yet?"

"Nope. Thought I'd talk to you first, but let's spring it on them at New Year's."

"New Year?"

"Yeah. You're coming down to Rockford."

"And we're all goin' out in Rockford for New Year's?"

Marty glanced upward, his forehead hitting Scott's chin. He was rewarded with a peck between the eyebrows. "Well, not actually. Craig has plans with Stephanie's family, and Brett's in Pasedena with the band for the Rose Bowl, but Jill and me want you to join us for the night. She really wants to meet you."

"Whoa. I don't have much experience being the gracious third wheel on a date, especially on New Year's Eve, and don't think I want to get some anytime soon. Maybe another time, another occasion?"

Marty looked up at the clock next to the table. It was quarter after eleven. Scott felt the weight come off his chest as Marty patted his ribs. "Be right back and we'll settle this."

"Huh?" Scott opened his eyes just in time to see Marty clear the doorway. He came back from the guest room with his cell phone to his ear.

"Didn't wake you, did I gorgeous?"

Scott sat upright and whispered. "You're calling Jill? Now? Jesus! She has a little kid at home! You can't call her at..."

Even in the dark, Scott could see Marty hold up his hand to shush him. He spoke into the phone. "Nah...just won a game of pool with `Fast Eddie' here. Numb nuts scratched on the last shot. Yeah. Bonehead move. Anyway, we were talking about New Year's Eve. Yeah, I think so, but he's being a butthole about it. You gotta talk to him." He slipped back under the comforter and sheets and pressed the phone to Scott's cheek. "She wants to talk to you."

Scott was tentative. "Hello?" Scott took the phone as Marty nestled into his pillow.

"Lost a close one, huh?"

"Kelly? Shit! I thought he was calling Jill down in Rockford!"

"Nope. Sorry, but you'll have to settle for me, for now." She giggled. "So, we're all set then?"

Scott's mind raced through the possibilities. "Set? Maybe you should fill me in on the most recent conspiracy."

Kelly giggled again. "Well, I'm going to drive to Madison on the thirtieth, and so are you. I'm going to park my car at The Union, and meet you there at about noon. Then, we're going to head to Rockford in your car, and go out with Marty and Jill for New Year's Eve. We're going to see the Bowl Games on New Year's Day at Jill's place with whomever else, then head back to Madison on Tuesday for all the swearing ins and Maureen's reception for her new place as majority leader. They always have the inauguration and installations the first Tuesday of the year, you know. Anyway, how's that sound?"

"Sounds like you and my pal here have planned ringing out the old, and in the new, in fine fashion."

"We have a gift, him and me. We're a team when it comes to keeping you on track, socially anyway."

Scott snorted. "You both have several gifts, and I guess I'll have to cave in, and give into this latest scheme to give me a life outside of the University." They were both quiet for nearly half a minute. "Hey, Kelly..."

"Yeah?"

"The scholarship. It came in today. I got it." He was subdued, almost modest in the statement.

Kelly gasped. "Oh, Scotty! I knew you would! Mo' was so sure you would, and she's keyed into that world! Way to go, Scott! I'm so happy for you...what a bonus! What a great deal for you! I'm so happy for you!"

"Thanks, Kelly. It really is great, and is gonna make it easier to move off campus next year with Marty and the boys." He paused "Yup. We just talked it over and are gonna talk to Craig and Brett next week about making the move to an apartment...the four of us."

"Sounds like trouble to me!"

Marty laid his head on Scott's chest, and heard his heart beating. His left hand found Scott's thigh, and the thumb gently stroked and massaged the mostly smooth skin. Scott giggled. "Yeah. You know Marty's nothing but trouble. At least I'll have Craig and Brett on hand for some semblance of sanity in the place." Marty's thumb found Scott's scrotum and he gently stroked the wrinkled skin. His balls retreated a bit in reaction. "Well, hey. We gotta go. I want to challenge the little shit to a rematch. I'll meet you at The Union at about noon on the thirtieth, and we'll go down to experience all the best that Rockford has to offer. Okay, g'night." He folded the phone and dropped it on the floor.

Marty sucked a nipple into his mouth, then lifted a smiling face. "Rematch, huh?"

Three days later, at a little before noon, Scott drove in and parked in the Union parking lot. He'd checked ahead with the Buildings and Grounds guys who'd given the okay for Kelly to leave her car there for a couple of days. During the regular school term, it'd be towed moments after the meter expired, according to friends who'd become victims of the parking Nazis on campus. She'd be safe for a couple of days.

He went into the lobby and ordered a tall coffee from the concession counter, picked up the morning paper and sat by the window overlooking the lot. He went right to the second section, covering state and local politics. Below the fold on the front page, there was a piece on the coming `changing of the guard' under the dome. The legislative oaths of office would be administered promptly at one o'clock on Tuesday, followed by a few formality votes to elect the new officers. Receptions would be held, including the one hosted by the new majority leader. There was some speculation on the coming legislative agenda, and a bit more on the expected friction between the Senate and the Assembly, given that the two houses were controlled by opposing parties.

Kelly saw him sitting in the window as she pulled up, and she leaned on the horn. Scott was jolted, and wiped a few drops of coffee from his sleeve before wiping his chin. He met her at the door and enjoyed a warm, extended hug, followed by a kiss that made a couple passing by turn their heads.

He looked down and smiled. "This was a great idea."

She slid a hand up under the back of his coat and gently rubbed, dazzling him with her smiling emerald eyes. "Have to admit, it was Marty's.

I was afraid we wouldn't see each other at all over the holidays, but him and me chatted a little before the break, and this brainchild was born. Leave it to Marty, ya' know?"

Scott kissed her forehead. "Ya' gotta love Marty, and he just keeps giving us reasons to." He nodded back over his shoulder. "I got a coffee. You want something before we head south?"

Kelly let go of his waist and shook her head. "No thanks. I'm all coffeed out and had a late breakfast with my bitchy sister before she left for the airport."

On the drive to Rockford, they each reviewed their happy celebrations with their families. Little of note was exchanged, except for family traditions they'd already shared, a few family-rooted annoyances, and an account of Marty's appearance at the nursing home with Evelyn. That story stopped at about the time he lost his game of pool and Marty had regained his memory about the scholarship letter.

More quickly than Scott had expected they were at the outskirts of Rockford. The mall Marty had identified as the best meeting spot was coming up on the right. Scott pulled in and found a parking spot by a landmark light pole as close to the main entrance as he could. Marty had said that Jill's parents were only a mile away. When Jill's day shift ended she was going to pick up Ashley and meet them there for pizza. Marty was sitting on the edge of the fountain near the entrance, chatting with a very heavy-set black man in a security uniform. The gentleman was laughing hysterically.

He spied them coming, then stood up and shook the guy's hand. Slowly, his arms opened to invite Kelly into something like a running hug. "Hey, gorgeous! You with the auburn hair and the green eyes to die for. Where the hell you been all my life? Dump the loser there and run away with me, will you?" Twin sisters in their sixties, doing their mall walking, giggled as his arms pulled her into his chest. He straightened his stance, lowered one arm to the small of her back and dipped her dramatically. Scott looked around, a little embarrassed but mostly amused, as Marty delivered a very dramatic dip, and kissed her on the lips.

He stood upright and looked at his friend, smiled, and then pulled him into one of those manly one-arm hugs, the other still around Kelly's shoulder. "Welcome to the Land of Lincoln, professor cheesehead. You're on my turf now, so watch yourself."

He was leading them to a bench near the fountain, pointing to the pizza place they were going to take Jill and Ashley to for an early dinner before the three of them would join Craig and Stephanie for some beers, pool and darts later in the evening. Marty brought Kelly up to speed on the recent drama inside of the Anderson household, and gave a glowing report. It'd only been three days since Marty had been at the Turner's, but there was more. Dan's attorney had indicated his client's willingness to settle quickly, and they were going to have to spend another several weeks working out the details of the finances. Shelly had renewed several social acquaintances that had whithered on the vine the past few years, and she planned on driving over to Chicago for an overnight with her girlfriends for New Year's Eve. He beamed with pride at his mother's recent growth.

A squeal and the patter of footsteps interrupted the conversation. "Mmmaaaaaaawwwwwwwwwwteeeeeeeeeeee!" A small girl with shoulder-length brown hair jutting from beneath a hood with a fuzzy edge, framing an angelic face with wide brown eyes and an enormous smile. She was storming down the mall's main thoroughfare, working mightily to make her legs move through the weight of the the heavy boots. The late afternoon crowd was rather light, so she only had to dodge two grown-ups, and the clunky footwear announced her approach. So, they had time to dodge her line of attack. Her tiny hands were thrust forward, the too-large mittens hiding the fingers that were spread out beneath them wanting to wrap around Marty Anderson's neck. He had just enough time to crouch and brace himself for the coming impact, and to soften the blow my meeting her ribs with his hands and hoisting her upward. Had he allowed a full-on collision, they'd have gone over onto the floor, a lesson that he learned from her on only their second meeting.

"Hello, Angel!"

She wrapped her arms around his neck, then pulled back to look him in the eye. "I told you it's Ashley, not Angel, silly!" She struggled with most of the L's still, like the R in his name, both consonants coming out pretty much like W's, most of the time.

He poked her ribs through the thick winter coat. "Not in my arms, girlfriend. You're my little angel, whose name is Ashley, but I'm gonna call you angel."

"But angels are in heaven, and I'm right here, silly!"

"No, you are a little angel, and you're right here, and now I'm in heaven."

She didn't understand, but he kissed her cheek and she squirmed again and giggled. "Silly!"

Jill came up behind and smiled nervously, acknowledging Scott and Kelly's presence with a polite nod and placing a protective hand on Ashley's back, since Marty was holding her at his hip with just one arm. "We're not late, are we?"

"No. We all just got here." He stepped back to give her direct access to both Scott and Kelly and performed the introductions.

Ashley caught a case of the shies, suddenly aware that she was about to meet two other new strangers, and she buried her head in the crook of her arm which rested on Marty's neck.

"Hey, now, Ash! You gonna get shy on me all of a sudden?" He nudged her chin with a finger. "I want you to meet two of my best friends ever. Look up and say hi to Scott Turner and my another sweetheart of mine, Kelly Abbott." He nudged her with a tighter sqeeze and shift of his weight. "C'mon sweetie. Say hi to Mawty's friends. You're gonna like them a lot. They're very nice people."

Ashley pulled back and looked at him with some confusion. "How many girlfriends you got, Mawty?" They all laughed, and she hid her face again, understanding only that they were laughing at her.

Marty winked at her, though she didn't see it. "What can I say? I'm a collector. But, hey, you gotta admit I got good taste! I only pick the best."

Ashley crawled down and slapped his thigh. "Silly." She took her mother's hand and looked up at the two newcomers. "Hello."

Scott and Kelly crouched to eye level and each quietly said hello. Scott looked her straight in the eyes. "Marty told me a lot about you, but you're even prettier than I'd imagined. And the way he talks, I didn't think that was possible."

Her eyes widened. "He told you about me?"

Scott nodded with exaggerated earnestness. "He said you were the most beautiful, smartest, most charming young lady he's ever met, or that he ever will meet." He looked both ways, suspiciously, then leaned in and whispered. "I think he has a crush on you."

She looked confounded. "Crushes me?"

Jill patted her head. "No, honey. When you have a crush on somebody else, it means you think they're very special and you want to spend a lot of time with them."

"Oh." She looked up at Marty. "We gonna have pizza, Mawty?"

"Peppewoni, if you want."

She slapped his thigh again. "Cut it out, silly. You're teasing me some more!"

Marty gestured with an open hand toward the entrance of the pizza parlor. "Lead the way, lovely lady. Your pizza awaits."

The five of them ordered two large pizzas, with enough variety of ingredients to satisfy everybody, and they spent the next ninety minutes laughing, munching and getting to know each other. Both Scott and Kelly took an immediate liking to Jill, with no effort required. She seemed so relaxed, so easy to talk with and joke with, and she kept up with Marty's smart mouth and quick wit.

After most of an hour, Kelly finally commented. "Jeez! I'd like to be a spectator in a full blown battle of wits between you two."

Marty smiled shyly and glanced down, shaking his head. "It isn't pretty, Kel." Jill's hand was lying next to her plate, opened and turned toward the ceiling. He laid his in hers, and she closed her fingers. "I fear I've met my match here."

Ashley continued to toil mightily, tongue between her lips in determination, on the placemat artwork she'd agreed to produce for each of the grownups, while they finalized plans for the next evening. Reservations were for eight-thirty. Dinner, and maybe a little dancing afterward, would take them up to about eleven. They'd retire to Shelly's house before the clock struck twelve, and well before the amateurs took to the streets, safely ensconsed in their own small private ringing in of the New Year. Jill's mom and dad were traveling, but Ashley's paternal grandparents would gladly take her for the evening.

Still, Jill wasn't planning to spend the night. Nobody asked. Kelly just got the impression that she wasn't comfortable going on an overnight stay with another man with the knowledge of Jeremy's parents. Not yet, anyway.

At the entrance to the mall, Marty crouched once more and held out his arms, and Ashley basically fell against his chest. He kissed the hood of her coat, then pulled his head back and placed a quick peck on her nose. "Okay, Angel. You go home and get some sleep, and let mommy sleep too." She rubbed her eye with the back of a mittened hand, then nodded. "And tomorrow night you get to stay up `til midnight and have a whole new year come to you." She looked at him blankly. "Then! The next day, we're gonna come over to your house. We're gonna make chili and banana splits and popcorn, and watch football."

Ashley's hands shot over her head in a "touchdown" signal. "Yeeeeeeaaaaaah! I love banana splits!"

He pinched her chin lightly. "I know, Angel. That's why we're gonna make them!"

He stood up and lightly kissed Jill on the lips. She quietly said good bye to Scott and Kelly, and squatted to pick up her daughter, then walked toward the car. Ashley looked back up over her mother's shoulder and waved one more time. "Mawty! I gotta crush with you!"

Marty blew her a kiss.

Craig and Stephanie were already standing in the corner near a table in Rocky's, with a pitcher of beer and some extra glasses awaiting their arrival. Marty hugged and kissed Stephanie on the cheek, then patted Craig's face. Scott extended his hand as if to bump fists, and Craig pulled him into a hug. "Congrats on the scholarship, dude! Marty told me the other day. That's great!"

Scott blushed a little and thanked him, then handled the introduction between Kelly and Stephanie.

"Where's Jill?" Craig looked around behind the trio.

Marty poured a beer and handed it to Kelly. "She's got Ashley tonight, and decided to pack it in. We just had pizza with the two of them out at the mall."

Kelly sipped and grinned. "And we all got an original piece of artwork from that little sweetheart. It's very abstract, but the girl has talent." She nudged Marty's arm. "I think that one little girl has stolen Marty's heart, not to mention her mom."

Marty blushed. "You'd be sub-human if you didn't love that little girl. As for her mom, we're just takin' it one step at a time."

They spent an hour taking turns throwing darts in various foursomes, sharing their own holiday stories. Scott and Craig were leaning against the wall. "Given any thought to living arrangements for next year, roomie?"

"A little. I was going to ask you what you were thinking, if you were gonna stick it out in the dorms another year."

"Well, me and Marty were talking the other night, and figured it'd be a good idea if you and me, him and Brett, looked for an apartment off campus. We could find a two-bedroom, maybe a reasonable three-bedroom so we could set up an office or a guest room."

Craig thought it over for a moment and grinned. "Could be fun. I'm pretty done with the dorm thing, after only a half a year. Got lucky with the roommate thing," he smiled admiringly, "but it'd be nice to share the space with just three others instead of thirty. And, we gotta be able to do better for food than what we get for the price over in the commons."

"Well, you guys can talk to Brett when they get back from California, and we'll go over it all again when we get back." A plastic dart hit him in the arm.

"Hey, professor, it's your turn to get back in! Stephanie is kickin' ass and takin' names over here!"

An hour later, Kelly drove Scott's car, following Marty back to his place. Shelly was already asleep when they arrived, so the introductions would wait until morning. Marty quietly nodded toward an open door down the hall and whispered. "There's the guest room, Kel." She nodded and smiled, then disappeared with her bags.

Marty pointed to the end of the hall. "You're going to have to camp with me, professor. Dad moved all of his office stuff out of this one," he gestured toward a closed door, "but Mom hasn't decided what to do with the space, so it's just an empty room right now. You'll have to sleep on the floor in there, on the couch out here, or crash next to me in my bed." Scott was mulling over the options. "But, we're gonna have to keep our hands to ourselves. I'm not doing the nasty with my best bud with his girlfriend and my own mother just down the hall."

Scott had assumed this might be a sex-free trip, as they were staying in Marty's mom's house and she was there. "No problem." Kelly returned to the living room in a pair of sweatpants and an oversized tee that Scott thought had once belonged to him. She kissed Marty's cheek, then Scott's lips. "G'night guys. It's been a long day, and I'm beat."

"G'night Kel. Sleep tight."

Scott slid out from between the sheets, and only Marty's feet moved, seeming to search for the other legs that his had been resting between most of the night. There was enough light coming in from the corner street light for him to find the sweats he'd laid on top of the suitcase on the floor the night before.

He heard the toilet flush as he tied the drawstring of his pants, then adjusted his cap. He tip-toed out of the bedroom, fully expecting to run into Marty's mom any second. He wished he'd had a chance to visit the john himself and at least rinse out his mouth. The bathroom door opened, and one very sleepy Kelly Abbott emerged, yawning and scratching her butt. She saw him and smiled a very sleepy smile before leaning on him. His right arm wrapped around her and he kissed her on the head.

"G'mornin' beauty. Sleep well?"

Kelly yawned and nuzzled her nose under his arm. "Ya' know how it is. Different place, different bed." She yawned again.

Scott patted her back, and whispered. "Go back to bed. I saw the coffee maker on the kitchen counter when we came in. I'm gonna find the coffee, put on a pot, and go out for a quick run."

She labored to lift her eyelids. "Are you nuts?"

Scott hissed a quick chuckle. "Holidays. Too much to eat, too much to drink, too little work or discipline. I need to go out and stretch and sweat a little bit." He patted her back again. "Go back to bed, girl. Get some more sleep."

She tapped her forehead on his collarbone. "I'm gonna do that, `cuz you're insane working out on the holidays. I swear."

Forty-five minutes later, he slipped back in through the back door, and tiptoed up the stairs into the kitchen. He found a mug in the cupboard and filled it, then found a hefty ice cube from the bucket in the freezer and dropped it in to cool it off, so that he could drink it quickly. Then, he heard some footsteps on the stairs coming out of the basement.

Shelly set down the laundry basket, tightened the sash on her robe by a couple inches and smiled. "Hi, Scott."

He put down the coffee and leaned back against the counter. He felt busted, more than anything, as if he was invading somebody's space. "Mrs. Anderson! I'm sorry. I just..."

Shelly giggled, then waved a hand. "Come here and quit being sorry. Welcome to our house. It's so nice to finally meet you." Scott shyly accepted a warm hug from this woman who reminded him remarkably of her son.

After an awkward moment, he settled into the embrace. "It's great to finally meet you too, Mrs. Anderson."

Shelly laughed. "Enough of that. I'm Michelle, but everybody calls me Shelly. You will too, or I'll toss you out of here."

She let him go and Scott saw that she'd already poured a cup of java for herself. "Okay, Shelly." He reached for his mug and took a deep gulp. "Hope I didn't wake you. I tried to get out quietly, and back in the same way."

"Oh, God, no! I've always been an early riser. Dan, my ex...oh, I guess you know a lot about that story...he got up around four every day to get on the work site a little after five. So, I've been making breakfast at the crack of dark for about twenty years." She motioned to a couple of seats at the kitchen table. As they both lowered into the chairs, Shelly took a hefty sip, and swallowed. "That's gonna change, but hasn't quite yet."

Scott wasn't entirely comfortable with her seeming eagerness to discuss Marty's dad, and the recent flux in her marital life and status, but figured she was entitled. Since she seemed to want to discuss it, Scott picked it up himself. "So, Shelly, things are getting better on that front?" He was a little unsettled by what suddenly felt like an inappropriate and very intrusive question. "Or, uh...that's what Marty, anyway...uhm."

Shelly laughed. "Relax, Scotty! I know that you know most of the story of me and Dan, at least as it's unfolded in the past year or so. My son and I are joined at the hip. It doesn't always look like it or sound like it, but there's probably nothing we don't know about each other. We're mother and son, but we're also best friends. He's my life, especially now. He pushed me through this crap, and he got me through this crap, and if I thought I had a million reasons to love him when he was a dependent little kid, I have about another billion reasons to love him now."

Scott swallowed another big slug of coffee and nodded his appreciation of all she'd just shared, but was surprised by how open she was. He'd expected a mousy, quiet and subdued little waif of a mother. Yet, this was a sharp middle-aged woman, who seemed eager to bare her soul with someone she'd never met before. He was trying to make sense of it when she interrupted his thought.

"Not quite what you expected, huh? Sorry if I caught you off guard, but I'm livin' large right now. And, I feel like I know you." Shelly got up and grabbed the coffee pot, offering to refill Scott's mug first. "Scott, a year ago, I worried about my only son. His accounts of the college life were always so non-committal and guarded. I was worried that he was feeling like I sent him there and didn't want him back here." She finished pouring her own. "But since this past Labor Day, it seems like he has a new lease on life. The biggest difference has been you. He talks about your friendship all the time, and how important your guys' pursuit of the political stuff has been. He was always such a cynical, often bordering on bitter, guy. But he's told me more than once that you've shown him the importance of one guy trying to make a difference in the world. You've helped turn in him into a borderline idealist." She reached out and put her hands on top of his and squeezed them lightly. "Thank you, Scott."

Scott looked down at his feet and shrugged in shy modesty. "Oh, he didn't need me for any of that, I'm sure. We're all just works in progress, always evolving."

"But we all need caring people around us, challenging us, urging us on, sometimes even propping us up."

Scott smiled. "You sound like your son. It wasn't that long ago that he gave me a hell of a `no man is an island' sermon trying to set me straight on part of my own take on life. He's been a great shot in the arm for me, too. I'm lucky."

"Sounds to me like you're both lucky to have found each other."

"G'mornin, kids!" Marty came around the corner tying his robe. He patted Scott's shoulder and leaned over and smooched his mom's cheek on his way to the counter. He yawned and reached into the front of his robe to scratch himself as he poured a mug from the carafe. "You two tellin' lies on me, I suppose?"

Shelly stood up to give her son the chair and picked up the laundry basket. "I'm going to get in the shower and then we'll make breakfast for your friends, Marty. How's Eggs Benedict sound?"

"Only if you make the hollandaise, and I'll poach the eggs. I always make a mess of the sauce." He opened the door to the fridge and removed a small package wrapped in white butcher's paper. "I'll start warming the bacon. We'll let Scott handle the muffins."

"So what are you kids going to do today?"

Marty tore open the package, then plugged an electric frying pan into the wall. "We're going to pick up Jill and Ashley and take them sledding out on the big hill by Jill's place."

Shelly leaned against the counter, holding the basket against her ribs with one hand and she picked up her mug again. She looked down at Scott. "We used to take Marty out there when he was little, Scott. He was hell on wheels on an innertube on that hill. A miracle he never broke anything."

"Yeah, we'll bring a couple of tubes along, but I want to show Ash' the artistic simplicity of sliding on just a cardboard box, too."

Shelly shook her head. "Just don't go giving Ashley and examples of your dare-devil madness, and give her any ideas. It wouldn't be hard to get hurt on that hill."

"Jill would kill me, mom. You know I'm not gonna let the little angel do anything dangerous."

After everyone had showered, and Shelly had made the sauce, she sat at the table to chat and get acquainted with Kelly while the guys coordinated their efforts in the kitchen. Scott alternately stirred the potatoes in the frying pan and worked the toaster as Marty poached the eggs, one at a time. They served Kelly and Shelly a plate of Eggs Benedict, seasoned home fries and fresh fruit.

"Looks lovely, boys! You two are quite a team." Shelly unfolded a napkin and politely waited for Kelly to be served before picking up her fork.

Marty assembled another plate for his buddy. "Yeah, we're probably going to have to manage KP duty in the apartment most of the time. I don't know if Craig can boil water without causing any harm, but Brett's an absolute disaster in the kitchen."

Scott snorted. "I don't think I even want him near any sharp knives."

Shelly chewed a mouthful of eggs, muffin, bacon and sauce. "Mmmmmmm. Wonderful work, guys!"

Kelly nodded her own praise as she chewed, then neatly wiped her mouth with the napkin as she swallowed. "So, Shelly, Marty says you've got a `girls night out' planned for welcoming in the New Year?"

Shelly sipped her juice. "Yup! Me and two of my single girlfriends are leaving for Chicago at noon. We have hotel and dinner reservations, then going to an invitation-only party with a club one of the girls belongs to." She giggled and raised her eyebrows. "Male strippers!"

"Great." Marty snorted. "My ma, kissing some sweaty, buffed up stud in a speedos with dollar bills sticking out of it, at midnight."

Shelly nodded confidently, but sarcastically, "That's the plan, sonny boy." They all giggled "Oh, I got you kids a couple bottles of bubbly for when you get home tonight. Don't want you drinking and driving though. They're out in the fridge in the garage."

Marty beamed. "That's my mommy! Thanks." He kissed the side of her forehead as he got up to retrieve the coffee pot for refills.

Five hours later, the three of them were standing in the back entryway to the house, kicking the snow off their boots and unraveling scarves. All had red noses and cheeks, and serious cases of "hat hair" from the stocking caps.

"Whew! I haven't done that in nearly ten years, Marty." Kelly ruffled her hair in an attempt to return it to something like normal. "But I'm going to be sore in the morning."

Marty swatted Scott's ass. "If you're sore in the morning, it should be for better reasons than a few trips down the hill in an innertube, eh Scotty?" Kelly swatted his shoulder.

"Who wants hot chocolate?" Marty reached under the counter to retrieve a pot in which to warm some milk.

"I think some hot chocolate and a nap. What time are we picking up Jill?"

"We got a few hours before we need to get ready, so a nap would be a good thing. You guys get comfy on the couch, and I'll be in in a minute with some mugs."

Scott laid down on the couch, and Kelly snuggled her back up against him between his legs. A few minutes later, Marty arrived with a mug for each of them, then returned with his own cocoa in one hand and his digital camera in the other. He sat down in the recliner, propped back and clicked through the pictures on the small screen, smiling. "This one of you two sliding down together in the same tube is borderline pornographic, especially with the expression on Kelly's face." He giggled and handed her the camera.

"Oh my gawd!" She lifted it so Scott could see the screen.

"I like it." Scott pinched her thigh. "That's one of my favorite positions."

Thirty minutes later, all three were dozing in their places, each with a contended smile on their face.

It was just before eleven when the two couples returned to the Anderson home. Scotty helped gather and hang the ladies' coats while Marty adjusted the lighting and located a CD he had burned the day before. "Got a good mix of jazz here, both contemporary and classic."

"I swear I can't take you anywhere, Martin Anderson," Jill giggled. "Can you ever go into a public place of business without grabbing somebody's ass? Jeez Louise! I thought that poor host was gonna have a flippin' heart attack!"

Marty shrugged as the CD slid into the player. "He had it coming. He was givin' me the look."

"And he was gushing at Marty when we first arrived for our table," Scott defended his buddy. "I think he loved it. Probably the most action he's going to get all night long."

"You're going to get yourself arrested some day, you know." Jill shook a finger at him.

He winked. "Been there. Done that."

Scott giggled. "And he didn't have to grab anybody to earn that booking. Shit! He didn't even have the decency to grab or cover any part of himself during that stunt."

Marty turned toward the kitchen. "Who wants a cocktail?"

All ordered drinks and settled into the living room. Jill sat in the recliner and took out her cell phone to call and check on Ashley. Scott took off his tie, and hung his coat on the back of one of the dining room chairs and joined Kelly on the couch. Marty returned with a tray of mixed drinks, then perched on the floor at Jill's feet. After a few minutes more of happy banter and trash talking between Scott and Marty, he got up off the floor and walked to the couch. Miles Davis played soft and slow. He extended a hand. "Dance, Madame?"

She clasped his palm and nudged Scott to move so that she could stand. "But of course, Moinsuerre!"

Scott grinned and slid to the side to get out of her way, and looked over at a smiling Jill. Each one nodded at the other. Once Marty and Kelly got settled on the makeshift dance floor, Scott stood, tightened his shirt inside his belt, and mimicked Marty's proposal with his hand. Jill accepted with a gentle touch and stood. Scott's hand reached around and gently settled on her lower back, their joined hands already resting on his shoulder, and they began to sway.

Scott glanced over. "No disrespect, Kelly, but Marty's a lucky guy in so many ways. Add this to the list...the girl can dance!" Jill breathed out a chuckle, and patted him on the back.

Marty opened his eyes, his head still resting aside of Kelly's, and he pulled her a little bit tighter. "You're in good hands over here too, my man." She rubbed his lower back. "Very good hands, indeed."

BB King moaned. "Nobody loves me but my mother, and she could be jivin' me too." Everybody giggled at the lyric.

Marty eased back, looked into Kelly's eyes and reached out to tap Scott's arm. Without even looking at each other, the guys each stepped back and changed partners without missing a beat. It wasn't planned or even overtly communicated, but just happened. Before either woman knew it, Kelly was in Scott's embrace and Jill was in Marty's, and the slow dancing resumed.

Scott wrapped her firmly in his arms, and maneuvered so that their legs smoothly scissored between each other, his buldge meeting her mound, her beautiful breasts pressed against his ribs. She nestled her chin into the crook of his neck and breathed hot, warm air into his ear. Marty and Jill each felt the same moves, the same sensations. Nobody said a word, other than the lyrics that Mr. King provided.

The tune ended, and both couples exchanged a soft kiss at the same time. "How long `til midnight, Scotty?"

Scott checked his watch. "T-minus twenty-seven, Captain."

"How bout I make another round to occupy us til the stroke of midnight. Girls, you might forgive us, you might damn us, but me and Scotty are gonna go out and blow an end-of-year joint out on the patio, and then bring the bubbly that Mom got back from the garage." He pulled a joint out of his shirt pocket. "Jill quit smoking this shit when she became a mommy, God love her, and Kelly never did it. But, me and Scotty...I don't think you'll begrudge us one more for the year, huh?" He gathered up the tumblers and headed to the kitchen.

Jill looked over her shoulder toward the kitchen. "You boys go and do your thing, not that either of us are shocked or anything. Us girls will just do the girl thing in here."

Marty shouted back. "Go to the bathroom together? Maybe I'll stay inside." He delivered the drinks, kissed Jill on the lips, Kelly on the nose, and then grabbed Scott's arm off of Kelly's waist before heading for the back door.

"Well be back in a few. Don't worry ladies, there'll be bubbly and kisses at midnight!"

The cold air out back forced each guys' dick to deflate, thankfully, and then practically shrivel. They shifted their weight from foot to foot, hands buried deep inside their pockets and arms pulled close to their sides to fend off as much of the cold as they could. The joint went back and forth quickly. "Let's duck into the garage, dude. It's not a lot warmer, but there's no breeze. And besides, that's where the fridge is anyway." Scott followed his host through the side door.

Jill smiled at Kelly. "You're lucky, but I can see that you know that." She put down her drink and smiled at Kelly. "Scott's a great guy all the way around. And, he's a dish, Kelly."

Kelly's eyes danced as she considered her good fortune. "Yeah, he really is, but Marty's the total package, too, girl! He's hot, he's funny, he's devil-may-care, he's loving, he's sincere, he's..." She paused. "Shit! If he wasn't Scott's best friend, I'd be all over him like white on rice!"

Jill sat forward in the chair and planted her right hand firmly on her hip, waving the left index finger in Kelly's face. "Back off," she giggled, "biatch!"

Kelly gasped with a mouthful of her gin and tonic, and covered both her nose and lips with a flat hand, and slapped Jill's knee.

They heard Marty's "1812 Overture" ring tone chiming from inside the coat pocket on the other living room chair. Kelly snickered and reached for the coat. After finding the phone, she unfolded it. She adopted an unnaturally stern face and voice. "Hello...This is Marty Anderson's pleasure line. If you are another one of Marty's many girlfriends, and you want to get in line for your New Year's kiss, press one."

Shelly had moved to the farthest edge of the bar, near the lobby door, but the music still blared through the cell phone, and she could hardly tell who was on the line. She shouted, "Is this Jill, or is this Kelly?" The martini's didn't help her comprehension. Nor did the buns and pouches that had been bouncing within inches of her hands or face for the past hour.

Kelly gushed out a laugh. "Shelly?! Hey! This is Kelly! I can hardly hear you!"

Shelly shouted back into her cell. "Is my son there, or has he been arrested already...again?"

Kelly nodded at Jill and she mouthed `mom.' "No, he went out to the garage to get the bottles you left for us to toast at midnight. We still got about fifteen minutes, you know."

"Yeah, but I wanted to call and tell him, and all of you, Happy New Year, before I grab a handful of the beefcake in front of me at the stroke of twelve." Shelly sipped her drink and leered at the Italian stud who continued to writhe and buck in front of her. "Tell him I might be bringing him home a new dad in a day or two, if this guy knows what's good for him!"

The stripper flashed a brilliant smile, thrust his groin in her direction and licked his lips.

Kelly giggled again. "Careful how you use the term stroke in that arena, Shelly! Even if it's `stroke of midnight,' you might be misunderstood." Jill tried to piece together one end of the conversation as Kelly got up and walked through the dining room, toward the kitchen and the back door.

Marty found the wall switch for the ceiling light. The dim bulb on the ceiling provided enough illumination to see the front door to the refrigerator. He pulled out the two bottles of good champaigne that Shelly had stocked for them, and set them on the work bench next to the wall, and grabbed Scott's right elbow, and then his left. Scott's right hand rested on his hip, the left on his ribs as Marty leaned in. Their crotches, already at attention with half-hard cocks met in a happy greeting.

Scott sighed and Marty winked.

Kelly walked down the back stairs. "Hang on, Shelly! I can get your favorite son on the phone for you in just a second. Can you keep your hands to yourself for that long?"

Shelly shouted. "For my boy and you kids? Anything." The stripper was nearly straddling her knee now. "But, hurry!"

Kelly found the doorknob in the darkened stairway. "Hold on. I'll get him."

The dim light made Marty's gaze all the more smoldering. "Well, professor, I figure in about ten minutes or so you're gonna have your hands and mouth full of Ms. Abbott, and I'm gonna be otherwise preoccupied. But, my friend, I just want to wish you a proper "Happy New Year." By now, Scott had one hand on Marty's lower back and the other at the top of his ass. Marty's smiling face moved in on his and their lips met. Soft and slow for a moment, barely touching. Each one whispered, "Happy New Year," before their mouths merged and their tongues slowly began to writhe.

They hadn't heard the door close, or the footsteps across the tiled patio. But, they did hear the gasp, just a fraction of a second before the phone hit the floor, and both heads turned. The streetlight coming through the front door's window lit Kelly's shocked, confused face.

"Marty?!"

The two men parted.

"Scott!?"

Author's Note: I hope that the holiday season brought you all that you'd hoped for, and that the new year is treating you all very well. As always, I'll thank you for your continued patience as the story unfolds. I'm advised that there was some concern or rumors that I'd discontinued the story. Not true. Never was. I'll tell you that I have five more chapters planned for this portion of Scott and the gang's time together. I'm coming up on one year since I started this little hobby, and finally have a plan to wrap it all up.

I'll also thank you for continuing to send your messages of thoughts, ideas, questions, criticisms etc. They're all very much appreciated. If you haven't contacted me with your thoughts on the story, I'll continue to encourage you to do so. It's the thoughtful words from the readers that provides the greatest motivation to continue with the story. I can be reached at scotty.13411@hotmail.com and all messages are welcome.