Strange Bedfellows

STRANGE BEDFELLOWS Chapter Twenty Four

Disclaimer: This story is a largely fictional account of the author's relationships and experiences while he was a college student at the University of Wisconsin. It occasionally contains somewhat graphic scenes of sexual activity between consenting men and other men, and sometimes men and women. (In fact, this chapter contains at least one scene that many of this tale's most loyal readers have been harping after for quite a long time. No fair reading ahead, guys!) If such material doesn't float your boat, or if it offends you, please move on to something else. If it is illegal to possess or to read such material in your jurisdiction, you must move on to something else. Either that or move to another jurisdiction. The work below is copyrighted, 2007, by the author, and may not be reproduced, reprinted or reposted without his expressed written permission.

Four college guys, each one on a budget, but all of them on a mission to have a good time during spring break, arrived in New Orleans on a Sunday morning in March. The only debate they'd had in the planning was whether it would be Super 8 or Motel 6 once they got to the `Big Easy.' Scott won on the Super 8. Neither chain offered coffee in the room. But at least Super 8 had continental breakfast in the lobby. He'd done some work on Map Quest and shown the guys that there were a couple of moderately priced double hotel rooms not too far from the French Quarter.

The check-in had to be record time for the Super 8 staff. Craig had argued, without much argument, that they'd put the entire hotel tab on his card so that he could cash in on a few more miles before they expired with the Capitol One goons, and they'd each pay him back in cash. They had their bags, several coolers of alcohol, Marty's magic stash hidden wherever he had it hidden and their party attitudes.

Because the card was his, Craig handled the check-in and distributed the keys. "Here's you and me, Scotty." He handed Scott a pass key. "And these," he handed the other two to Brett, "are for Laverne and Shirley. You're right across the hall."

Marty was in the corner of the lobby on his cell phone. "Yeah Babe! I'm gonna, but not now. We just got here. We'll all deal with it when we get back. It's gonna be okay. You trust me, don't ya'? Good. Feeling okay? Good. Kiss my little angel and I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay? Love you too. Bye." He slid the phone back into his pocket.

Scott stood at the rack of postcards and pulled out one of the bigger, five-by-seven inch ones. It had a watercolor of a jazz quartet. He asked the desk clerk for a pen. "The weather is beautiful. I wish you were here," he neatly printed. He smirked, and switched the pen to his other hand.

Marty stepped up beside him. "Uhm, Scott, you're not left-handed, you know?"

He nodded. "Yup, but I want the second part of this to look like I was drunk when I wrote it. It's for Gran'." He scribbled, "I mean: The weather is here, I wish you were beautiful. Love, Scotty."

Marty giggled and patted his back. "Gimme that." He took the pen, and wrote across the bottom, "Not to worry, Evelyn. I've got my eye on him, and we set aside enough cash in case we need to make bail. Love ya', Marty."

Scott looked at the clerk. "Do you have a first class stamp?"

Marty shook his head and nudged his arm. "You don't need first class for a post card."

"You do if you want the card to get there before you see the recipient again." He dropped some coins on the counter, affixed the stamp and slid it back. "Will you drop this in the outbound mail, please?"

Brett took over. "Okay, men. It's early. I propose we unload our stuff, take a nap for a couple of hours, then go and tear apart Pat O'Brien's. I've got a hankering for a Hurricane."

"Hurricanes? Aren't those, like, nearly all rum?" Craig smiled.

Brett gave him a thumbs up. "Thus, the nap. I want to be a wide awake drunk tonight."

They were lying naked, on opposite ends of Kip's single bed. Kip was leaning back against the short headboard, and Glenn was propped against a pillow held in place by the dresser at the foot of the mattress, his legs entwined with his new American friend. The sixty-nine session had lasted nearly a half hour. Kip was still recovering from Saturday night's emergency procedure, and it would still be a while before anything, or anyone, would be able to penetrate him. For his part, Glenn looked forward to the opportunity of wrapping his legs around his taller new friend and getting a good, thorough riding. But for this afternoon, the mutual oral satisfaction was just what they both needed.

"So, let me see if I got this straight. Last fall, this Marty fellow set you up to take the pictures of you and this other guy, and then he used them against you a few times. No cash or sex or anything, just to get you to `do certain things' as you put it?"

Kip shrugged in agreement. "Yup. That's about it."

"But you don't want to tell me about those certain things."

"Nope. That crap's all behind me, and it's all irrelevant. It wasn't anything bad or illegal or anything like that."

"And then you used your favored position for that appointment to this Regents group as a way of getting the disk back. You basically traded with Scott...the appointment for the pictures?"

"Basically, yeah."

"And now your brother has those pics, too?"

Kip took a sip of water and nodded. "He lifted them off my computer at home and emailed them to himself. And that promises to pretty much put me at his mercy. I'm sure he's gonna try to use me and abuse me, pretty much at will, as long as he has them."

Glenn curled his lip and wrinkled his nose in disgust. "I can tell you regret it, so I won't beat you up for not getting rid of them as soon as you got `em back from this Marty character. But, Kip, if you don't mind my asking, has this stuff between you and Chas been goin' on long?"

Kip breathed deep. "From about the time I was twelve or thirteen. Like a lot of big brothers, I suppose, he taught he how to jack off, and a lot of times we'd do it together, a couple times a week. At the time, like a lot of little brothers, I suppose, I worshipped the ground that Chas walked on. And, I guess, at that age, to have my idol share something so personal and good-feeling like that hit me in all the right spots. By the time I hit high school, we'd gone from jacking each other off to me blowing him whenever he wanted. He'd call and I'd come running, like a fucking little puppy dog." Glenn looked down in sadness and slowly shook his head.

Kip was staring off into nowhere as he continued. He'd never discussed this part of the family history with anybody, and it felt good to be able to dump his bucket to someone as safe as Glenn. There was an unusual comfort with the Australian. He was, in Kip's eyes, incredibly hot. But he was also a sensitive, sincere and attentive listener. Plus, he'd be leaving for Melbourne in a week. There was no risk in Kip baring his scars to this new friend.

"Then, sometime in my sophomore or junior year in high school, when he was already here at college, he took my virginity from behind. And, even then, I liked it. I deny it to him now, but the truth is, I really liked it. We did it practically every time he was home from college, and once with a buddy of his while I visited him here for a weekend."

They survived a few moments of silence and Kip felt a soft shudder in hearing his own words. He inhaled deeply again. "But then, somewhere along the line, it started feeling nasty. It became obvious that the affection I thought was a part of those experiences with a guy I adored wasn't there. After a while, I was pretty sure that it never had been there. Luckily, then he got married and started leaving me alone." He chuckled, "Although how in the hell that frigid bitch whose going to bear his child could ever satisfy anyone is waaaay beyond me." Glenn smiled and nodded his understanding, even though he'd never met Charlene. "I try to avoid being alone with him whenever the family gets together these days. But I've been pretty much forced into a couple of unhappy scenes with the bastard the past few months."

Glenn patted Kip's foot. "I'm sorry, Kip. Really sorry."

"And, now that he has those pictures, and is threatening to hand them over to my father any time I don't do what he wants, when he wants..." He shuddered again. "Uuuuuuuugh!"

Glenn swung his feet across Kip's legs and they hit the floor. He found a pair of shorts that had been peeled off of him an hour earlier and stepped into them. "Real shitty deal there Kipper, but I think I can help you out. That is why you asked about computer worms and viruses and the like, right?"

It sounded like `roit,' and it made Kip grin again.

"You got it, mate." He winked at Glenn with his own use of the Aussie term of endearment, and Glenn snickered his approval. "So, it could be done?"

Glenn booted up his laptop and nodded. "Well, it would have to go to him in the form of a Trojan horse program. It's something that looks harmless enough, and the bad stuff has to be at the root kit level in order to get around any antivirus protection your brother probably has. The trick is to send him something he'd be willing to open, because the effect you're looking for always requires some sort of action on his end, like opening a program, in order to execute the Trojan. Once he does, the destructive element would reformat his hard drive completely at reboot." He stopped clicking on the keys and looked up. "You following this?"

Kip grinned. "Mostly not, but it doesn't matter. You seem to know what you're doing. How would it get to Chas's computer?"

The question showed that at least Kip was thinking. "Aaahh, that's one of the tricks. It would have to look friendly, but still be hard to trace back to its origins." He nodded at Kip's computer. "Obviously, it couldn't come from here, and I'm not real big on sending it from my email, either."

Kip smiled. "Got ya covered I think. You know that I work in the computer lab. Well, if a student fucks up there, accessing evil stuff through one of the university's computers, we sometimes have to revoke their log-in rights for a time. After the penalty has expired, we also reinstate those same rights. Every semester, we have to update the students' identities and email accounts through the UW's email for new students, or cleaning out those who have left all together. So, I'm one of the guys who can create an identity, give it a user name and a log-in. And, it's spring break. The place is basically empty for the week. Would it work if I made up the name of a non-existent student, and he' emailed it to Chas under the subject of something like Calling All UW Crew Alumni?' Chas captained the team for two years when he was here, and I'm sure he'd open up something like that. Especially if he saw `uw.edu' in the sender's identity, even if he didn't recognize the name." Glenn smiled and nodded enthusiastically as he manipulated the curser around the screen and continued to click away. "So, I create a bogus student with a UW identity. You log in as that student and send the e-poison to my loving brother, and then I go back in and delete that same student from the system. Would that work?"

Glenn giggled. "I love this shit, you know?" He looked up and nodded. "It would."

Andy had finished with the morning's mail for the firm, signing where his assistant Marjorie had left the little tabs. He'd scheduled time to work on the Regents' next meeting and dug into the mailbox of stuff that "Marge" had left from the university. There was a nicely embossed envelope from the College of Letters and Sciences.

"On behalf of the faculty and staff of the Political Science Department of the University of Wisconsin, I am pleased to invite you to join us in honoring the distinction of the newest member of the proud family of LaFollette Scholars, Mr. Scott Turner, Jr. The annual LaFollette Scholarship Luncheon will take place at 12:30 p.m. on Wednesday, April 11 in the Great Hall of Memorial Union." The rest of the invitation provided a short program and list of speakers, including the Honorable Theodore Hackett and historian, and previous LaFollette Scholar, Stephen Ambrose.

"Very impressive," Andy muttered. He thought for a minute as he tapped the corner of the invitation against his chin and then picked up the phone.

"Marge, I want to make a small adjustment in my April Regents schedule. Keep the full Board's meeting on the 25th, but add `Final Action on Budget Committee Recommendation' to the agenda. Then, I want you to prepare a meeting notice and agenda for the Budget Committee. We'll meet on the 11th, at 1:00 p.m. Single-item agenda, if you will: final action on the budget recommendation. Print them off, but don't meter and mail them. I'll take care of that myself. I want to tuck a few personal notes in the committee members' notices. They've worked so hard, and gone above and beyond this spring, and I want to thank each of them. Bring them in for my signature once you have them ready. Then, please call Ellison Cushing with my regrets that I won't be able to attend the LaFollette Scholars' Luncheon, owing to Regents' business. Finally, will you call my accounting consultants and schedule one last meeting for a couple hours between now and then? I just want to go over the finer points of the budget. Make it the week before the 11th. Thanks Marge. You're the best."

Twenty minutes later, Marjorie brought the committee meeting notices in. "Sir, should I just meter and mail the agendas to the other members of the Board?"

"Ah, yeah, go ahead." He held up the other five notices for the committee members. "I'll take care of these and put them in today's mail. Thanks, Marge." On the first three, to Milford, Comstock and Mason, he initialed next to his name on the committee notice, folded it in with the second agenda for the full Board meeting, and sealed the envelope.

Then, he called Abby Svendsen in Wausau. "Abby, it's Andy Pennington. How are you feeling?"

She was cautious. "Oh, fair to middlin' today, Andy. And how are you?"

"Very well, thanks. Hey, I won't keep you long. I was just checking in to see how you were doing. I'm working on the April calendar for the Board. We're looking at the next full meeting on the 25th. Think you're going to be up to traveling by then?"

There was a pause. "Well, I would hope so, but I doubt it would be much sooner. I'm glad you're aiming for the end of the month." He wrote across her committee meeting notice, `Per phone conv., says she can't attend on 4-11.' He dated it and slid the single page into a file folder with her name on it.

"Well, that's fine. I'm sending the meeting notice and agenda out in today's mail, so you should be getting it in a day or two. I hope you'll be able to make it. We've missed your contributions to the discussions. You take care now. G'bye!" Before Abby could say a word, the line went dead.

Andy sealed Abby's envelope containing only the agenda for the 25th. Then he folded both notices to Scott and sealed them as well. He walked over to the mailroom. He ran all five envelopes through the mail meter to stamp them with the proper postage and the day's date. Four of the five got tossed into the "out" hopper. Scott's was returned to the center drawer of his desk.

He grabbed his suit coat and briefcase. On his way past Marjorie's desk, he paused. "Marge, I sent the rest of the meeting notices to the Regents. Make sure you update my calendar to reflect the new meeting for the 11th. And, will you please call my wife? I have to run over to Madison for a meeting with President Lyons. Tell her I'll be home this evening, but that she shouldn't hold dinner." Marjorie smiled and nodded. "Thanks." She heard him whistle as he strolled down the hallway.

Since spring break was underway, the library was down to a skeleton staff and the computer lab was closed. Kip waved and smiled at the woman at the reception desk. Recognizing Kip as a staffer in the computer lab, she didn't flinch when he unlocked the door and led his attractive friend in. Kip picked up a three-ring binder and opened the back cover. He slid his fingers into the pocket and smiled. "Ha! Thought it was still here." He held up an index card. "Sometimes we'd sign in and out for each other, if there were, uhm...other things going on..." he booted up the computer. "We kept our log-ins and passwords here for convenience." When the screen invited him to log on he scanned the list of names. "This guy..." he began typing, "left at the end of the first semester. Basically failed out and his old man pulled the plug on him. But I think..." he clicked a few more strokes and smiled. "I was right! He's still in the system." He glanced back at Glenn and grinned. "Okay, I'm going to sign in as a guy no longer on staff. But he still has permission to set you up with a log in and password under another student's name. That way, my fingerprints aren't on the identity I'm going to create for you." He clicked the mouse a few times and opened a spreadsheet. "This is the list of students who are no longer active, but haven't been cleaned out of the system. We'll just reactivate one of them, you can reset the password, and you're good to go."

Glenn waved a disk and grinned. "It's all right here, mate."

Ten minutes later, Kip gazed anxiously at the computer screen. He nervously wiped his palms on the knees of his jeans and looked back at Glenn. "So it's there? It was delivered? How will I know he opened it and it did the trick? When will I know?"

Glenn smiled and sighed. "Kipper. Relax. Your brother's personal e-mail inbox has an email from one Bryan Milleville,' with a UW email address, and a subject that says Calling All UW Crew Alumni.'" As far as when you'll know anything, it'll depend on Chas bitching to you, or in front of you, about his computer meltdown. Otherwise, you won't actually know. You'll just have to trust me."

Kip looked at his watch and sighed one more time before nodding. "Okay, Glenn. I trust you, mate." He nudged Glenn's knee. "Maybe I shouldn't, after Saturday night's trip to the ER, but I guess I'll have to." Even though they were alone in the computer lab, Kip leaned forward and whispered. "At least I'm sitting, fully clothed, on a chair, and not on all fours on my bed with my ass in the air. So, I guess it's okay to trust you now."

Glenn chuckled and patted Kip's shoulder, relieved that his friend was able to look back on that unfortunate episode with a sense of humor. "Well, that should do it. You might or might not know if it worked." He checked his watch. "Well, I have to meet my mates and the other guys from the house to go see that movie, and you need to shove off and go take care of that student government business, right?"

It sounded again like `roit?' and it still made Kip smile. "Yeah. Turner's out of town for the week, and there's some stuff I need to take care of as V.P. I need to go to a meeting with the chairman of our Board of Regents." He felt bad about abandoning Glenn for the afternoon, but he'd already figured it was a necessary piece of his plan. "I'll catch up with you guys a little later after the movie. I'll see you at the pizza house."

"So, where's your Aussie guest this afternoon?" Andy was using a warm, wet washcloth to wipe the milky fluid off of his young partner's chest and ribs.

Kip propped up on an elbow, then reached over and picked up the bottle of water off of the hotel room's bedside table. "A bunch of them went to see a movie. I begged out, telling them I had to take care of some business for WSA and the Regents since Turner's in New Orleans." He took a long drink as he scooted up and leaned back against the headboard.

Andy tossed the cloth into the bathroom sink, then flopped back down on the bed. "He can stay in New Orleans, for as far as I'm concerned."

Kip reached down and wiped Andy's bangs back off of his forehead. "Not playing nice with others, huh?"

Andy rolled onto his back. "God! He is SUCH a pain in the ass! And, the kid doesn't have a clue what he's dealing with. He could seriously fuck me up, you know." Then he grinned. "But I think I got it all figured out." He locked his fingers behind his head and his left elbow dropped onto Kip's thigh. He tilted his head upward to look Kip in the eye.

Kip looked down and ran a finger across the inside of Andy's forearm. "How's that?"

Andy sighed in satisfaction. "Well, I'm predicting that our Mr. Turner is going to miss a meeting, a very important meeting. The budget request will go to the full board on a unanimous vote from committee, and be presented two weeks later. Scott will bitch and moan, but look like a foolish child for missing the budget committee meeting that he should have been at in the first place. The recommendation will go to the governor, maybe on a 13 to 2 vote. Ted Hackett will get what he wants and..." he paused and looked up again, "a couple years from now you could be laying naked with Judge Andrew Pennington of the State Appeals Court"

Kip grinned. "Are you shitting me? How do you..."

Andy held up a hand. "Don't ask. It's just going to happen. The downside..." he reached over and pinched the skin of Kip's kneecap, "not that it's going to affect you at all, but you young'ns are looking at a good shot to the pocketbook next year, and the year after that."

"How bad?"

Andy shrugged his indifference. "Looks like just under twenty percent next year. It could've been higher, but I cowed to the accountant on the committee and cut some personnel overhead and brought it down to about eighteen-five, I think." Kip coughed out his water, and then gasped.

Andy chuckled. "And probably another good hike the next that is yet to be determined. We don't have to decide that `til a year from now." He looked up again, still smiling. "Lighten up, Kip! Take a breath. Like I said, you'll be graduated and out of here. Besides, Charles Sr. would've written the check and you'd have just muddled along not knowing any wiser or feeling any pain. And..."

Kip cut him off. "And this is going to get you a judgeship?"

Andy nodded. "At the state level. And then, maybe onto the State Supreme Court. Sweet, huh?"

Kip ignored it. "Hey, Andy. I got a couple favors to ask."

Andy rolled to his side, bent his arm at the elbow, and dropped his head onto his fist. "Shoot, Kip. You know I'll help if I can."

"Well, we met a couple times at that room out on the west side of Milwaukee. You said your firm basically had it on hold for out of town clients." Andy nodded. "And you said your firm has courtside seats at the arena for Bucks games, and that you're about the only one who uses them." He nodded again as he rubbed Kip's shin. "Well, my brother's birthday is coming up. If it's okay, and if you can arrange it, I want to bring him and my Australian brother to a basketball game, and then have a small party with us and some friends away from my parents' house. I figured you'd understand."

Andy rolled off the bed and padded over to the table near the window. He judged it prudent to not even ask about the party in the hotel room. He filled two glasses with ice, and then filled them half way with Chivas. He took Kip's water bottle and added a splash to each one. He handed one of the glasses to Kip and gazed into his young friend's eyes. "Done."

It had been a great night out in New Orleans. Preservation Hall had been the first stop, and the musicians had been in great form. As they strolled Bourbon Street, they peeked into a few titty bars as the barkers advertised their ware. Nobody was feeling any pain by the time they arrived at Napolean's Itch. It was karaoke night, and Scott grinned broadly as he paged through one of the many song books at the bar. Craig and Brett were in the bathroom, and Marty had stepped outside to call Jill. He giggled as he picked up a pencil.

They took a table and ordered another round of Hurricanes. Like most of the places they visited, there was a two-drink minimum. Nobody complained. They trash talked each other, with no small amount of attention on Marty's continuing need to call Rockford. Every citizen entertainer at the microphone, regardless of their vocal abilities got a standing ovation and wild cheering from the group most of the patrons were soon calling `the guys from Wisconsin.'

Scott got a nod from the guy running the sound machine, and stood up to "hit the can." A few minutes later, the patrons heard the deep voice and southern drawl of the bar's announcer. "Ladies and gents, Napolean's Itch is prawd to preeeesent the mellifluous vocal stylin's of Wisconsin's own... Scott...Turner...Jooonyah!" Brett spit out his drink. Marty fell off his chair. Craig just smiled and shook his head. He'd put up with Scotty's `vocal stylings' in their dorm room for months now.

An orchestra's string section accompanied Scott's dramatic entrance on the stage. "Aw, fuck!" Craig moaned. "He's gonna do Sinatra." Scott dramatically pulled the microphone out of its stand and crooned,

"My story is much too sad to be told, But practically everything leaves me totally cold. The only exception I know is the case When I'm out on a quiet spree, Fighting vainly the old ennui, And I suddenly turn and see...your fab-u-lous face."

A bass rhythm picked up the pace, pulsing beneath the softly swinging saxophones. Scott snapped his fingers as his body bounced at the knees and hips to the beat of the tune. He looked over at the table of three guys and he pointed at them all. They were hooting and cheering and clapping.

"I get no kick from champagne, Mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at all."

The guys at the table hollered obscenities that he'd never recall.

"So tell me why should it be true... That I get a kick..." he snapped his fingers as his eyes met Marty's,

"...out of yooooou."

"Some, they may go for cocaine."

The table erupted in applause.

"I'm sure that if I took even one sniff It would bore me terr-iffffffffffff-ically, too." The three howled their laughter. Yet I get a kick out of you.

Scott shrugged and tilted his head, ala Sinatra,

"I get a kick every time I see You standing there before me. I get a kick though it's clear to see that You obviously do not adore me."

The three shouted in unison, "I do! I do!"

Scott wailed now. "I get no kick in a plane. Flying too high with some gal in the sky Is my idea of nothing to do. Yet I get a kick...uhm, you give me a boot...Yes, I get a kick out of yooooooooooooooou."

He sang through several pitches on the last syllable, in tune with the instrumentals backing him up. His three buddies were on their feet before his voice trailed off. Scott took a bow to a rousing round of applause from the entire bar. Returning to a series of high fives and pats on the back, he grinned sheepishly, and took his seat.

"Always wanted to do that. Too bad I had to find the courage to do it in the joint we smoked, Marty's little white friend and about four or five hurricanes."

Brett nodded. "I think it's five, but it looks like number six is on the way."

The cocktail waitress set down the tall orange-red nectar, garnished with fruit. "This one's on me, Scott. That was a lot of fun. You got `Old Blue Eyes' down pat!"

Scott bowed with his head once again. "Thank you, my dear. What's your name?"

"Chelsea."

"Well, Chelsea, I don't let `The Chairman of the Board' out that often, but I appreciate the complement, and the drink."

"Hey!!" Marty squealed. "You haven't heard me yet! I could bury that sad-ass rendition."

The waitress winked as she handed him a slip of paper and a pencil. "Put up or shut up, big guy. You do as well as Mr. Turner here, and I'll buy you one, too."

Marty took the paper, and grasped her hand. He kissed it and winked at her. "You are on, dear Chelsea! You'll want to come back to the hotel with me when I'm done. We're at the Super 8. Want the key now?"

She gently tapped him on the forehead and moved to the table next to the guys from Wisconsin. Chelsea looked over her shoulder and winked again. "So, impress me." She blew him a kiss, then bent over to hear the drink order the other table was giving her, and to show them all her narrow waist, firm hips and tight buns.

Fifteen minutes later Marty was gone to the can.' They all expected it, but still shouted out when it came, as though it was a surprise. "Ladies and gents, Napolean's Itch is happy...er, even happier than we were thirty minutes ago," the announcer stuffed a ten into his pocket, "to applaud the vocal stylin's of Martin Blue Eyes' Anderson."

Like the earlier Sinatra performance, the saxes and bass led the way. He stepped into the spotlight with a fedora cocked down over one eye. He'd `borrowed' it from the guy at the end of the bar who was laughing as he enjoyed the cocktail Marty had bought him. . "This goes out to my girl, Chelsea, and the buddies I dragged down here from Wisconsin." He snapped his fingers and winked at Scott.

The orchestra in the background had caught up with him, and Chelsea was starting to laugh. Marty looked at her and shook a scolding `don't test me!' finger. Then it was time to sing. He looked right at her and winked. Then he looked over to the table of his friends, grinning. His eyes locked on Scott's.

"I've got yoooooooooou under my skin. I've got yooooooooou deep in the heart of me. So deep in my heart, that you're really a part of me. I've got yooooooou under my skin."

Chelsea leaned over the bar to order his drink.

Scott was whooping it up with Craig and Brett at the table, but his eyes hadn't left the lock Marty had on him since the first beat of the song.

"I'd tried sooooooooooo, not to give in. I said to myself this affair never will go so well. But why should I try to resist when baby I know so well That I've got yooooooooou...un-der-my-skin"

Marty slid the hat up over his eyes and reached forward, palm turned up toward the ceiling.

"I would sacrifice anything, come with might For the sake of having you near In spite of the warnin' voice that comes in the night And repeats, it repeats in my ear: Don't you know, little fool, you never can win? Use your mentality. Wake up to reality. But each time that I do just the thought of you Makes me stop just before I begin. `Cuz I got yoooooooooooy—ah, under my skin." He snapped his fingers. "Yes, I've got yoooooooooooou, under my skin."

The next morning they were sitting in the lobby, a bit bleary-eyed. "But I wanted to go over and check out this haunted graveyard today. Anybody up for that?" Craig chomped on a croissant and sipped his coffee as he paged through the pamphlet.

Brett bit into a baguette covered in creamed cheese, and muttered with a mouthful. "Sounds good to me. Never met a ghost before."

Scott scrunched up his face. "I don't know. I'm not much for the supernatural shit. I can handle the history stuff pretty good, but hanging around where they're buried doesn't do much for me. I wanted to go over to that park with all the artists and check out some of the stuff. Maybe find something for the apartment, or to bring back for my Mom and Dad. Maybe my Gran' too."

Marty nodded. "I got a really cute photo of Jill and Ashley in my wallet. I wanted to have one of the artists turn it into a water color portrait. I saw some really good deals there the other day."

Scott reached in his shirt pocket. "Okay, here's the tickets for the Riverboat." He gave one each to Craig and Brett and slid the other two back. "Let's just do what we want, and meet on the floating casino when it's due to shove off.

Brett looked mildly confused. "I thought the casino boats stayed docked, that they just put the casino on the river to keep them off the mainland. I didn't know they actually moved."

Scott nodded. "Most don't. The Natchez does an all-inclusive tour.' You get dinner, decent music and a tour of the river. The gambling's sort of an extra, but this one's all-in-one. It's about six hours of touring, gambling and probably a beverage or two. Meantime, me and Marty will go hunting for culture. You two can go hunting for spirits."

They nodded, and parted ways for the rest of the morning and afternoon. After three hours of mulling among the various artists, Marty finally asked. "What time does the boat shove off?"

Scott's eyes looked up in thought. "Uhm...four o'clock. We're good for time."

A little after three, Marty nudged his buddy. "Let's head back to the room real quick. I told the guy I'd stop back tomorrow to pick up the portrait, but we can drop off our shit and then head down to the dock to meet the guys."

Scott checked his watch. "Yeah, that ought to be about right."

Twenty minutes later, Marty banged on the bathroom door. "Dude! Wipe up and let's head out! We're gonna be late!"

"I'm workin' on it. Gimme a second. We got time!"

They got to the dock just in time to see The Natchez lazily strolling up the river, it's huge water paddle slowly waving goodbye to them.

"What the fuck? Scotty! You said the thing left at four!"

Scott pulled the tickets out of his pocket and examined them. "Oops! I guess it was three-thirty. My fuck up, man. I was sure it was four."

Marty nervously scanned the dock, hoping to spy Craig or Brett. "Shit! They must've got on board. God Dammit, and I was feeling lucky. Remember the last time we visited a casino? I did pretty well. I wanted to shoot for a replay of the big win in the Dells."

"Jeez, Marty. I'm really sorry." Scott struggled to subdue the coy grin, with limited success. "Man, what're we gonna do now?"

Marty paused, and slowly turned his head. The smirk on Scott's face said volumes. "You sonofabitch! You did this on purpose!"

Scott feigned shock. "Moi?" He leaned over and spoke just above a whisper. "Why would I do something like that? Now we have about six hours, prol'ly more, just the two of us stranded here on shore. Whatever shall we do?"

A naughty grin flashed across Marty's lips. "Race you back to the room!"

Scott put a hand on each of Marty's shoulders and pushed him back down onto the bed. Immediately, he was on top of his friend, hungrily lapping at his neck, lips and ears. Marty's hands reached down and firmly gripped Scott's ass as each man ground his groin into the others. When there was a break for some air, Marty looked up and smiled. "My! Somebody's a hungry boy."

"Shut up." Scott's mouth planted another insistent kiss as he began unbuttoning the Hawaiian shirt. He threw back the two sides of the shirt front, and lavished Marty's chest with licks and nibbles. Marty's hands rubbed the back of Scott's head in encouragement and appreciation as he slowly moaned. As he worked his way down the panting torso, his hands kneaded the hard package between Marty's thighs, and was soon chewing on the bulge beneath the fabric of Marty's shorts. Marty sat up half way and gripped the back of Scott's polo and pulled it up over his head. Soon, each had stripped the other completely, and they rolled back and forth on the mattress, alternately licking and sucking and playfully biting one another.

Scott sat back up and leaned over the edge of the bed, fumbling to find his shorts. He came back up with a smile, and swung a leg over to straddle Marty's knees. He clenched the corner of the condom's wrapper between his teeth. Marty giggled. "Jesus, Scotty! You're one determined motherfucker today! Goin' right for the hot spot, are you?"

Scott leered down and playfully patted Marty's chest. "Told you to shut up. You keep gabbing like this and I might change my mind." He leaned down and locked his lips again on Marty's. He grabbed his friend's engorged member with his right hand. As Marty panted through the kiss, he felt the rubber covering the head of his own cock. Before it completely registered what was happening, Scott had slid the condom down his full length. His eyes flew open and he gasped.

While Scott slathered a generous helping of Wet up and down Marty's dick, he heard Marty gasp again. "Jesus, Scotty! Uhm... are you gonna...?"

Scott scooted up the mattress several inches and their eyes locked. Scott's hand was working his slippery fingers on and into his pucker. He gazed down and nodded. "I want to, Marty. I want you inside of me." He gripped Marty firmly. "Been thinking about it for a little while. It's obvious how much you enjoy it, unless you've been acting." Marty shook his head and rolled his eyes. "And since I figure there's a good chance I'll give it up some day, I want it to be you." He lowered his hips until he could feel Marty's glans poking against his opening. "And I want it to be now."

With some effort, he lowered his hips. A sharp gasp and widening eyes, along with the sensation around the head of his cock announced that he'd poked through the sphincter. Marty put his hands on Scott's chest and stroked with his thumbs. "Just hold it there, Scotty. Takes a little bit to get used to. You sure you want to do this? Am I hurting you?"

Scott clenched his jaw and clamped his eyelids. "You're not hurting me. It hurts, but you're not hurting me."

Marty lowered his hands and gently rubbed from Scott's thighs, up around his waist and around back, softly stroking his ass cheeks. "Easy, studly. Take it at your own pace." Slowly, Scott allowed his weight to lower onto his friend's groin. He grunted, "Errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgghhh. God Damn!" When he realized he'd hit bottom, he inhaled deeply. "Fucking A!"

Marty giggled. "You did it, Scotty. Now just give us a second just like this while you get used to it. God dammit, you are so fucking hot. I wish you could see yourself sitting on my hard pole, you horny fucker." He gripped Scott's member. "So fucking tight. So fucking hot!"

Scott slowly opened his eyes, and his clenched teeth and clamped lips slowly morphed into a smile. He wrapped his hands around Marty's biceps and gripped them firmly. Marty strained to bring his head off the mattress, and his tongue lashed back and forth across Scott's chest as he felt the hips on top of him begin to slowly rock forward and back. A low groan came from above, and Marty gently bit the left nipple with his front teeth. He felt the weight come off of his groin as Scott gradually rose, and then lowered himself back down onto his friend. "Oooooooooooohhh, ffffffffffffffuuuuuuuuuck!" Scott purred. Scott released Marty's upper arms and placed his hands flat on Marty's panting chest. He sensed the rhythm that Scott was beginning to get into with his up and down motions and encouraged him with his hands on Scott's ass.

"Yeah, babe! Ride my cock, man. Like that Scotty? How you doin', buddy? We doin' okay?"

Scott just closed his eyes again and nodded his head, the pain had washed away and he was completely lost in the sensations that were so new and so blissful. "Mmmmmmmhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmm."

Marty bent his legs slightly and flattened his feet on the mattress for leverage. He wanted to match Scott stroke for stroke, motion for motion. Softly at first, he heard Scott reacting to the team effort. "Oh, God! Oh, shit! Oh, fuck! Oh, God!" One syllable with each thrust upward as Scott came down onto him. Marty's hand gripped Scott's crimson rod again, and his stroking matched the bouncing that they were working out together.

"Oh, Marty! Oh Damn! I'm gonna...I'm gonna...I'm gonna..." His body jerked and his muscles clamped tighter around Marty. With a throaty grunt, he spewed a gusher of white cream all over Marty's chest. "Aaaaaahhhhhhh, Fuuuuuuuck!" Scott whined. He jerked again several times as his eyes rolled and his body quaked in spasmodic joy.

Marty responded in kind. Almost involuntarily, his hips thrust upward and his head came off the pillow several inches. The muscles in his neck bulged and he gritted his teeth while he dug his fingers into Scott's thighs. A series of coughing grunts escaped from between his lips as he filled the condom deep inside of his friend. His head fell back on the pillow, and Scott's followed him down. He slowly slid the invader from his chute with a wince and a groan.

After a full minute of silence, broken only by heavy panting and an occasional effort to swallow hard, Marty began to stroke Scott's back, and he giggled. "Well, you did it. I didn't think you had it in you."

"Yeah. But, I had it in me alright." They both chuckled, and Scott patted Marty's chest. "But, I know what you mean. Used to think I never would, or could, do that either."

Marty kissed Scott's temple. "Me neither, but I'm not sure we're talking about the same thing."

Scott licked his lips and lifted his forehead off the mattress. "Huh?"

"I meant that you surprised me. I didn't think you could ever do anything that would surprise me. That's always been my job."

Much to his older brother's amazement, Kip grabbed Chas into a tight embrace. "Hey, Chas! How's it hangin'? He slapped Glenn on the shoulder. "This is our Australian brother, Glenn Bowden." He put the appropriate emphasis on the word `brother.' "Glen, my big bro' Charles Monmouth, Jr., or Chas."

Glenn gripped Chas' right hand in both of his and offered his most dazzling smile. "Very good to meet you, Chas. Your little brother," he nudged Kip with an elbow without letting go of the elder Monmouth's hand, "he's told me a great deal about you in the short time I've been here. I've been looking forward to meeting you." He squeezed a little tighter on the word `meeting.'

Chas was immediately smitten. The accent was adorable, the smile was captivating and the eyes closed the deal. Glenn's gaze just sucked a person in on the first meeting, and one was often mesmerized by them every time he spoke.

"And this is Charlene, my sister-in-law." Charlene gave him a peculiar look, believing that had been the first time he'd ever referred to her as anything other than `Chas's wife.'

"Oh, my!" Glenn gently shook her hand. "You look like you're ready to make ol' Kipper an uncle any day now."

Charlene scowled. "Any minute is more like it, I think. Can't be soon enough for me." She cast a sideways glance at her husband. "And we are going to have and raise an ONLY child." Chas just rolled his eyes as Charlene eased herself into the large recliner nearest the door.

Charles pulled his favorite son into a tight embrace. "Happy Birthday, son! It's a good thing the baby didn't come today. Wouldn't want my grandson growing up having to share the limelight with his old man on his own birthday. I intend to spoil the little one something awful, and want him to have his own day."

After thirty minutes of cocktails and get acquainted conversation, Diane announced that dinner was served. Kip held out a chair for Charlene, and sat down next to her. When Glenn pulled his chair out to take a seat next to Chas, he shifted it a couple inches to the right. Pulling the chair under his rear end, his right thigh easily brushed up against the left thigh next to him. It would nudge him seductively several times throughout the dinner. Ten minutes into the meal, when Chas picked up his napkin, Glenn glanced down and could see that his subtle overtures were having the desired impact. He quickly winked at Kip, and wondered how the target of his attention was going to stand up once the meal was over.

"Chas, I sent you an email a couple days asking what you wanted for your birthday. You've never ignored that request before. What's that all about?"

Charlene sniffed. "Genius boy here opened a program attached to an e-mail from somebody he didn't know. Shazamm! Reformatted the hard drive due to some bugaboo virus, or worm or something like that."

Chas looked down in chagrin. "That's right, father, essentially. I received an e-mail with a subject regarding UW Crew Alumni. The name was one I didn't recognize, a Bryan Milleville, I think, with `UW dot edu' in the address, so I though it was legit. It contained a request to assist in updating our team alumni information, and that all I had to do was open the attachment, answer a few questions about my current data into their program, then save and return it. As soon as I opened the program, kablewey! Everything went black. Everything I had saved on the hard drive or in my email is gone. The damned machine is over at CompUSA being serviced."

Kip swallowed and sipped his wine. "Everything's gone?"

Chas shot him a sneer. "That's what I said little bro,' everything."

Kip feigned pity. "Oh, that's really too bad. What a pain in the ass."

Chas shrugged. "So I called the president of our alumni association, and he tells me that they've authorized no such solicitation of membership data. I've got a call into the tech. support staff at the university. Because of spring break, they're short staffed right now, but she assured me they'd begin an investigation as soon as they were back up to full strength."

Kip nodded hopefully, as he kicked Glenn's foot under the table. "Good luck with that."

After the dishes were cleared, the candles were blown out, the cake was cut and coffee was served, Chas opened his gifts. His parents had made it into something of a baby shower, giving him all sorts of things to welcome a new grandson into the world. A couple of picture frames, some bibs with funny expressions on them, a baby-sized baseball mitt and a baby-sized rubber cheese head hat. Finally, Charles produced a twenty-year-old bottle of scotch and redeemed the birthday experience. To top it all off, Kip handed him an envelope. "Happy Birthday, Bro!"

His mouth dropped when he opened the card. He picked three purple, green and orange pieces of stiff card stock out and looked at his brother. "Jesus fu..." He glanced left and right at both parents. "Uhm...holy cow, Kip! These are fu...uhm... these are courtside!"

"Close enough to smell, what's his name, Kip?" Glenn snapped his fingers. "Close enough to smell Glenn Robinson's jockstrap." He looked shyly left and right, then across toward Charlene. "Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to be crude." He nudged the leg to his right. Chas coughed to hide his laughter and patted Glenn's thigh.

Kip perched his elbows on the table and smiled. "Nothing's too good for my big brother." He looked to his right. "Char," she cringed. "I hope you won't begrudge my wanting to take my big bro' and my Aussie buddy here out to celebrate his birthday tomorrow night? These seats are hard to come by."

She waved and rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

Charles, Sr. smiled warmly. `Maybe the boy is finally coming around,' he mused.

The following afternoon, Kip sat on the same Milwaukee hotel room armchair he'd been in, legs in the air, with Andy Pennington panting and grunting on top of him, two months earlier. "These are a-fucking-mazing!" Kip stared at the black matchbox-sized gizmo in his hand.

Glenn giggled. "Pretty cool, huh? We'll put this one right here." He stuck a rolled up piece of electrical tape to the bottom side of the tiny camera and affixed it to the top of the cable box in the entertainment center. "Looks like a piece of the `tele' set-up, and it will catch anything going on on the bed. "This one," he held up a small globe, "we'll put next to the sprinkler." He stood on bed and reached for the corner of the ceiling, mashing some putty into the cone-shaped base of the small device. "Looks like a piece of the hotel's security system. It'll catch anything taking place on the far side of the room."

He hopped off the bed. "And that one, I'll tuck in here on the window sill. Just remember not to open the curtains. It'll gather what's going on from the other angle."

Kip chuckled. "My overly horny big brother, whose balls are probably neon blue after the teasing you gave him last night, in hotel room with you and me. Once it becomes clear what we have in mind, he's not going to touch the curtains."

Glenn wiggled his eyebrows. "I was pretty deviant last night, wasn't I? Kind of merciless, actually. The good news is, he's hotter than even you described. Sounds like a lot of fun." He patted Kip's head. "And it's for a good cause, brother."

Kip looked back at the small lens in his hand. "And, they're wireless? Going right into the laptop?"

"That they are, but not video. Stills only, Kipper." He fiddled with the curtains another minute, then opened the laptop and the clicking began. "These will capture about thirty still photos each, and feed the images into here." He slid out the drawer beneath the TV and carefully placed the laptop. "What time you figure we'll be getting here?"

"About ten, I guess. Maybe ten-thirty."

Glenn clicked a few more times. "That should do it." He closed the cover of the computer and slid it into the bottom drawer of room's dresser, and then placed the room's extra pillow and blanket on top of it. For good measure, he placed the Gideon Bible on top of that. He looked up and smiled. "We're all good."

Kip checked his watch. "Perfect, Mr. Bond. We're not due to pick up the asshole for another two hours to go to the game. We got the room `til tomorrow morning." He went to his knees. "Come here and let me give you a dress, or undressed, rehearsal for this evening's performance." Glenn smiled and grabbed the strap of his belt.

They parked in the underground garage, beneath the Arena. "This is so cool! I've been to a lot of Bucks games, but never had an indoor parking pass."

Kip smirked. "You were trash talking Andy Pennington at Christmas time. Looks like knowing him pays off after all."

Chas slapped his brother's thigh. "Kippy one, Chas zero."

As they stepped out of the car, Kip took off his coat. "We're indoors. Why not leave the jackets here? Not like we're going to need them, and I'm just as likely to leave mine on my seat when we get up to go."

Glenn held open the back door as he got out. "Hand me your coat, Chas old boy, and I'll toss it in with mine." Chas fondled the outside of the jacket pocket before tossing it in, making sure that the cell phone was still inside. Just before leaving the house, Charlene had insisted that Chas bring his phone, in case she felt the need to reach him during the game. They didn't need any distractions tonight.

Charlene lay nearly prone on her back in the recliner, eyes closed. Charles was in his study, and Diane busied herself playing solitaire at the kitchen table. The `Ice Queen' sat up half-way. "Chas!" she screamed. "It's time!! It's time, God Dammit! Get me to a hospital!"

The guys took their seats, with Glenn being careful to position himself between the two brothers. After looking around for a minute, he motioned for the guy selling beers one row back to move his way.

At the same time, the cell phone buzzed in the pocket of the coat that was on the back seat of Kip's car.

Glenn motioned over Kip's head indicating to the concessionaire that they needed three beers. As the cups made their way down the row, Glenn leaned forward to hand a twenty back down the row and then wait for change. As he bent forward, he was careful to let his ass brush against Chas' cheek and then his ear. Chas blushed red and his cock twitched.

The buzzing of the cell phone stopped.

"Where is he? Have you even called him? Where is my sonofabitch husband?" Diane patted one hand as a nurse patted the other.

Charles stood just outside the delivery room and hit `redial.' "Answer your fucking phone, you dipshit," he heard himself muttering. "I am NOT going back in there to help your cunt of a wife deliver this baby!" The nun walking past shot him a disdainful glare.

The Bucks were up by ten starting the second half of the game. Chas had already been bought four tall beers, and his little brother and Glenn were not going to let him off the hook. Glenn had accompanied him to the john during half time, and given Chas a not-so-subtle show of his half-hard member while they stood at the urinal. Glenn patted his ass as he zipped up. "The night's young, mate." As they stood at the sink, their eyes met in the reflection of the mirror. The Australian leaned in to check his face, locked eyes with Chas and licked his lips.

The hospital staff had brought in a male nurse to assist with the delivery, in place of the father. Charles had refused to go through those doors again, and Diane had begged for help. "Now, breathe!" the doctor encouraged. The nurse held her hand and mimicked the breathing techniques she and Chas had practiced during their classes.

With five minutes left, the Bucks lead had dwindled to a twenty-point deficit. Kip looked at his watch, and then pointed to the scoreboard. "You know, we could beat the end of game rush and duck out of here now. This game's over, anyway." He put a hand on Glenn's shoulder and looked at his brother. "What say me and Glenn give you a birthday party to remember, Chas?"

Glenn smiled at Chas and licked his lips. "And make this trip of mine an unforgettable one as well, eh Chas?"

Five minutes later, back in the parking garage, Glenn opened the back door as soon as Kip had hit the remote to unlock the car. He needed to be in the back seat. As Kip pulled out of the parking space, Glenn reached into the coat pocket and plucked out the cell phone. Ten missed calls. He turned off the power, set the phone on the floor, and then kicked it under the front seat.

"Fuck you both!" Charlene shouted to the doctor and Diane. "Get my lame-ass husband who did this to me...get him over here, NOW!"

Kip opened the hotel room door and motioned for his brother to enter. Although a bit leery, and still kind of stunned by the arrangement, Chas complied. A few steps inside, he felt Glenn's hands come around him from behind, one of the going for his crotch and the other sliding up to stroke his right pec. Glenn's tongue swiped across the side of his neck and tickled the earlobe. He ground his firm package into Chas's rear end, and felt his prey's hands reach around and grip his ass to urge him on.

Chas turned around in Glenn's embrace and grinned sheepishly. "So, you and my little brother are, uh, very fraternal, I gather?"

Glenn swiped his tongue across Chas's chin. "Very. Very, very! We have a lot in common. If you don't mind, I'd like to make it even more in common."

Kip went to his knees between the two and began petting and groping at each man's package while Glenn slowly unbuttoned Chas's shirt. His hands roamed over the well-developed chest as Kip undid first one belt buckle, then the other. Chas looked down and smiled. "You know how to set up a birthday party, little bro'. Kip just looked straight ahead at the bulging pouch of his brother's boxer briefs, extended his tongue and lightly stroked its tip over the outline of the head of the hardening cock beneath the fabric. Glenn slid the shirt off his shoulders as Chas reached down and grabbed the pole showing through Glenn's boxers. Kip slid his fingertips into the waistband of each guy's shorts and pulled them down. The heads of the two cocks came together inches from his lips. He extended his tongue again and danced it back and forth between them.

Charlene glared down between her raised legs. She screamed at the doctor. "I just want you to get this out of me!! God Dammit!!" Her scorn turned to the male nurse who was working his second consecutive double shift, and was exhausted. "And you bring this fucking faggot in here to hold my hand?" She swatted the staffer away. "Don't tell me to breathe you asswipe! You try pushing a watermelon out your asshole, and then come back here and tell me to breathe. WHERE IS MY FUCKING HUSBAND?"

Her husband was on his back in a Milwaukee hotel room, getting fucked up the ass for the first time in his life. Glenn stood at the edge of the bed, ramming his turgid member in and out of the virgin hole and leaning forward to suck forcefully on Kip's extended tool. Kip's feet were planted on the mattress on each side of his brother's head. Chas looked up at his little brother's glutes flexing and his nut sack swinging back and forth as Glenn gobbled on Kip's dick. His eyes popped each time the head of Glenn's missile passed over his love nut.

After snoozing for a while, Marty and Scott located a Cajun restaurant that delivered, and ordered a small truckload of appetizers to munch on. Their early evening sex, followed by a few cocktails and a fat joint had left them famished. They laid naked on the bed, laughing, chowing on spicy shrimp and blackened chicken and beef, sipping drinks and reminiscing over the past several months. It was a great two-man party.

Now Glenn was bent over Kip, his chest on Kip's sweaty back and buried to the pubes into his friend's hole, and Chas was driving his own resurrected rod into the smooth ass of the Australian. Glenn looked up at the ceiling mounted camera and smiled.

"There's the head!" The doctor had grown tired of this bitch, and he wanted to get back to his wife, so he was trying to focus instead on just the baby. He was trying to will the infant out of the mother's womb. Diane wept quietly in the corner of the room, having been shooed away by her daughter-in-law. "Okay, Charlene, I need you to push again! We're almost there."

"Fuck you!" Sweat mingled with tears in Charlene's eyes. "I'm pushing all that I can. I'm going to cut that fucker's balls off, I swear. I'm going to tie his pecker to the rear bumper of his fucking BMW and drive off. I'll show him zero to sixty in record speed. WHERE IS MY FUCKING HUSBAND?!!"

After some more playful banter and erotic foreplay, some if it involving the food they'd ordered, Marty invited Scott to return the favor of a sweaty, rambunctious ride. After they collapsed together and caught their breath, Marty opened the windows to the warm gulf air, hoping to clear the room of most of the lingering odor of man sex. They fell asleep again, entangled in each other's arms and legs on Marty's bed. Just as he was falling back to sleep, Scott heard a key in the door, and Brett's drunken muttering. Scott rolled to his right and dove for the other bed.

"Whathefu?" Brett mumbled.

Scott sat up and shielded his eyes from the light. He mocked Brett's mumbling. "Missed the boat. Went out and got shitfaced. Crashing here. You get my bed. Turn off the fuckin' light."

Brett mumbled something unintelligible, and the door closed.

Marty was giggling into his pillow when Scott rejoined him under the covers.

The following morning they woke and showered together. Scott stole across the hall to see if the guys were up and put on some clean clothes. Craig was laying on top of the covers in his boxers, snoring loudly, with Brett asleep in one of the chairs, a hand of playing cards still clenched between his fingers. They'd be leaving tomorrow and it looked like today was going to be a lazy one, with plenty of recovery on deck for everyone. Scott left a note. "Hey, Sad Sacks! Sorry we missed the boat. My Bad!!! Me and M. went out for a bite to eat. Back in a bit. Call my cell if you rise from the dead. S."

They settled into a table on the sidewalk in front of a café. Scott sat gingerly with a wince. Marty giggled as he accepted the menus and ordered two cups of coffee. "You'll get past it. But it's a good hurt, ain't it? A couple of screwdrivers too, professor?"

Scott shook his head and waved a flat hand over the table. "Not for me. We've been hitting it pretty hard this week. I'm about ready to dry out a little."

Marty nodded. "Me too." He looked up at the waiter. "Been a long week of partying. Just coffee for now, please." The waiter smiled knowingly and nodded.

They chatted idly, reminiscing about high school and childhood years. With practically every anecdote about a misstep from their own youths, Marty would make some comparison to little Ashley. With nearly each version of a date gone very wrong or one that went extremely well, Marty had a comparison to Jill. Each time Scott mentioned Big Scott or Suzanne, Marty would talk about how hopeful and happy he was for his own mom's bright future.

Scott couldn't help but recall the night in his dorm room when Marty had poured his heart out about his malignant father, and how the clouds formed around Marty's eyes any time Dan Anderson was mentioned. This was a different guy he was having coffee with, and was delighted for his friend.

Scott bit into a hard roll. As he chewed, he scrutinized Marty from across the table. The gaze was so intent that finally Marty had to react. "What?"

Scott sipped his water. "When did you plan to break the news to us?"

"Huh? What do you...?"

"You're not coming back next year, are you?"

Marty looked down at his knees. Both guys were quiet for a full minute, neither one moving. The waiter began to approach with fresh coffee, and Scott waved him away. Finally, Marty said softly. "I wanted to wait `til after the break. Figured one or more of you might be really pissed, and I didn't want to start an argument and ruin the week."

"Probably good thinking, I suppose." Marty looked up and was surprised to see a gentle smile on his friend's face. "So fill me in. I figure you got a plan, right? Not like you to make decisions without carefully..." he snickered and shrugged, "...okay, maybe not always so carefully, but at least plotting a course of action. There's always a plan, Mr. Special Advisor, even if it's a little hair-brained. But I don't believe this one could be hair-brained."

Marty sighed in relief. He had most nervous about Scott's reaction, and he was sensing support right out of the gate. He relaxed and leaned back in his chair. He removed his cap, and ran his fingers through his hair before refitting it snuggly. "We're getting married, and Jill and I are going to be new parents in September."

Marty had seen shock on Scott's face many times before, but not like this. "You knocked her up? You had...Jesus, Marty!"

Marty's hands went up in defense. "Easy! Easy! Things just got out of hand not long after the New Year." Scott was still speechless. Marty leaned over and he spoke softly. "Look. Jill knows I've messed around with guys. She doesn't know the extent, or the whole deal with you and me, and I'm not sure she ever will. In fact, she's not gonna hear your name pass my lips if we discuss that stuff any further. But we've both been tested, and are clean as a whistle. We'll both continue to do that regularly for the next year." He leaned closer and reduced the volume further. "You ought to do that, too, you know."

Scott nodded his admission of something he'd already considered as Marty continued. "Anyway, yeah. One night we were alone, without protection, randy as Hell and things got very steamy. We just gave in. I tried to be careful, but..." He shrugged and winked. "Besides, neither one of us is sorry. In fact," he giggled, "we're both pretty jazzed by the idea."

Scott sat back and relaxed. "Okay, what's the rest?"

Marty laid out the plans he and Jill had made with themselves, her parents and his own mom, Shelly. Marty would move into Jill's house for the time being. Jill's father, Eric, who loved Marty, was in the process of closing a deal with a group of investors where they'd end up acquiring six more small weekly papers. Eric would retain operational control of all of their interests, and he had a job for Marty. The position was in sales and advertising for several of the papers. "Interesting work, I think. Developing ad ideas, writing print, overseeing the photography, schmoozing with the business class. The kind of shit that's right up my alley." He grinned and winked again. "I've been known to come up with an idea or two to grab people's attention and get them thinking my way, you know." Scott threw a piece of roll across the table.

"Anyway, I'm going to work while Jill finishes her Associate's Degree. About the time she wraps that up, the baby will come. She's going to stay at home for a while before looking for jobs. She's already made some contacts, and ought to do just fine. When we think we're ready, I'll cut back on the job while I start classes at Rock Valley to finish my own A.D. in marketing. All of my credits from the UW will transfer, so that should be a breeze. Then, a couple years down the road, we're going to talk about maybe coming back up to Madison and one or both of us will finish our undergrad degrees. Meantime, we're surrounded by childcare help up the wazoo, between her parents, Ashley's dad's folks and my mom."

Scott locked his fingers behind his head and leaned back. "Seems this really is what you want, my friend. You've been doing a lot of planning lately."

"Oh, it is, Scotty. It's what I really want. It's scary as shit, but I really do love Jill, and I know she loves me. And you might have noticed, but I'm head-over-heels-insane about Ashley. They need me, and so does my mom, but to a lesser extent." His voice creaked a little. "It feels so good to be needed." His voice broke further. "And, I am going to be the father I never had. I have to do that. It's not like I even have a choice. Looking back, I think I decided that when I was about five or six. It's just that the current situation has made me articulate it, to say it to myself, and now to you. My mission in life, I think, is to become the man and the father that Dan Anderson never was."

Scott pursed his lips, swallowed hard and blinked away a couple of tears. "Mission accomplished, Marty."

There was another moment of silence before Scott continued. "You're ten-times the man he ever was or will be. I think I have a pretty great father, but you're going to be the best. I'm very happy for you, and proud of you. Jill and Ashley, and little whoever that will be, are very lucky." He could see the relief on Marty's face and in his body language, but wanted to dispel and lingering tension a bit further. "Besides, it's not like you'll be that far away. A phone call, an e-mail, and I know you'll come running to the rescue the next time I fuck something up."

Marty was beaming. "Ready for those screwdrivers now?"

Scott smiled. "Can't celebrate with just coffee, now can we?" He waved at the waiter.

"So, what're you doing on July 18th?"

"Uhm...coming to Rockford for a wedding?"

"And, standing up as my best man, if you would?"

"I'd have been pissed if you hadn't asked." Scott winked. They clinked glasses.

Marty took a sip and licked his lips. "Uhm...if it's a boy, we're going to name him Scott."

Scott swallowed hard and blinked several times.

"I think I like this one the best." Kip leaned back in his chair with Glenn sitting next to him. The image on the screen showed Chas on all fours with Glenn's dick in his ass and a mouth full of Kip's cock. Neither of the younger fraternity brother's faces were evident, though there was no way one wouldn't recognize Charles Monmouth, Jr.

"I'm pretty partial to this one." Glenn clicked on another icon. "I'm a Kip and Chas sandwich, don't you think?" They'd cropped it just right to show Chas pressed up against Glenn's back, his face covered in sweat exuding ecstasy, with Kip's torso visible underneath Glenn's body. "I'd like a copy of this, if you don't mind. Something to put on my screen saver back in my room." He swatted Kip's knee and winked.

Kip gathered the forty images he deemed worthy of the effort and saved them onto a CD. He opened an e-mail and typed both of his brother's addresses, personal and office. "I think his Yahoo is working again." He giggled.

"Dear Chas,

"I wanted to add a memento to your recent birthday gift. I hope you had as much fun in the making of it as I did. By the way, Glenn sends his regards.

"You'll note that each image is stamped with time and date. Unless I'm mistaken, something else was going on in your larger life while you were busy feeding on cock and taking it up the ass in Milwaukee. Is Charlene speaking to you yet? Not if you're lucky.

"I'm sure that she and Mom and Dad would be so proud.

"From here on out, dear brother, you will not fuck with me. You will not lay a finger on me. You will not deride or degrade me. You might decide to not speak to me, either, but that's no loss and it'll be your call. But, what would father say?

"I hope that little Marlene got the teddy bear I sent. She's so adorable!

"Your loving brother,

"Kip."

They were silent during the drive out of Memphis. They were all exhausted, but it was Craig's turn to drive. Once out on the interstate, Marty finally broke the solitude. Like the other three passengers, it looked like he was dozing, but without opening his eyes, Marty smirked. "Dude. I can't believe you actually wept."

Brett shook his head. "I can't believe you didn't. It was `The King's' gravesite."

"Of course it was his gravesite. He died. In, what, like 1977?"

"But he was `The King'!"

"He was a bloated, over-medicated has-been who keeled over on the shitter."

Brett's voice cracked again. "I know. It makes me sad."

Scott opened his eyes and interrupted. "Okay. I'm sorry for your loss, Brett. Speaking of sad, Marty has some news. Happy news, but sad news, too." He glanced in the back seat. Marty's head had shot off the rest and his eyes were wide open, glaring at him. "Mr. Special Advisor? Care to share the latest with the class?"

"I was going to wait, Scott."

"For what? We have plenty of time to kill. Craig's been humming and I'm afraid he could break into song any minute." He glanced over to his right. "No offense, roomie, but you really suck." Craig chuckled and flipped him off. "Anyway gents, plan on a hell of a party in Rockford on July 16th and 17th. I figure it'll take a couple of days to do it right. I'm in charge of this one."

Brett wiped his eye and forgot about `The King.' "I'm always up for a party, but who the hell put you in charge? You're not even from Rockford. And what's the occasion?"

Marty patted Brett's knee. "Relax, chief. I put him in charge. He's going to be my best man."

There was silence for most of a minute. Scott looked over at Craig again, whose wide eyes were glued to the rear view mirror. Scott tapped his arm. "Uh, the road, Craig-o. Please look at the road, will you?"

Marty took a deep breath. "In a nutshell, dear friends of mine, I have planted my noble seed. Between now and September, I'm going to leave the UW, make Jill my bride, become an instant father, well, step-father anyway, take a job in marketing and advertising, and assist in the delivery of my own child."

Brett's head fell back onto the rest and he rolled it left and right. "Ever notice those little square packets around the room? The ones that feel kind of squishy if you pick them up and squeeze them? Those aren't balloons, you know. They're called condoms."

Marty shrugged. "What can I say? It happened, and I got no regrets."

"Fuck-ing-a." Craig was shaking his head. "You knocked her up. No regrets? Listen to yourself. You're just finishing your sophomore year in college, and you piss it all away for a few minutes of bumping and grinding?"

Marty tapped the headrest in front of him. "Maybe a few minutes when you do it, buddy, but ol' Marty goes all night long. And I got a plan. Not pissing anything away. I'll be back. Me and Jill got it all worked out. Not to worry, my friend."

Scott was serious. "Really, guys, he's all over this shit. Jill and Ashley are lucky, and so is Marty. But we're losing a roommate next year." He turned sideways in the front seat to look at Craig and the guys in back. "So, enough about Mr. Fertility. Let's talk about the important stuff, what it means to us." Marty rolled up a gum wrapper and threw it at him. "Look guys, I've been giving it some thought. It's a three-bedroom apartment, but we'd planned on bunking in pairs and leaving the other one open. Let's do this: if anybody has a candidate for a fourth, we meet him and discuss it. If everybody thinks it'll work, then it's all good. Otherwise, we can talk about scratching the guest room and each have our own."

"What if it's a her?" Brett piped in. "Anybody mind if I ask Angie if she wants to shack up? Me and her in one room, Scotty and Craig in the other, and we still have the office-slash-guest room."

Craig scoffed. "So we can listen to you two bumping ugly every night."

"Well, not every night, but she is kind of a screamer. Maybe I can retrain her. Wonder if she'd consider a gag?"

Scott threw the gum wrapper at Brett. "You're sick. But I'd have no problem with Angie. But if we don't find a fourth, let me pick up half the rent." All heads shot in Scott's direction. "Guys! It's a great place! We already signed a lease, and the rent's not that bad. I'm going to do pretty well this summer. In the fall, I'm going to cut back to twelve credits at school. That'll keep me on full time student status and keep the scholarship alive, but still let me keep working 15 to 20 hours a week in the caucus. And with the scholarship plus the income, that won't be much of a chore. We've got time to hash out the details." He looked back at Marty. "So fill `em in on all the rest."

For the next hour, they peppered Marty with questions, allowing him to fill in the blanks on what had happened, when they found out about the pregnancy, when they decided to get married and the job in his future. By the time they'd covered all the various angles of Marty's situation and his future, Scott was beginning to doze off, content that all would be well.

The Australian frat boys were gathered with their luggage in the living room of the house. Handshakes and manly hugs were given and taken while they waited for the vans that would take the exchange students to O'Hare. From there it would be back to LAX, then the long flight back to Melbourne. Glenn and Kip lingered in his room in a firm embrace. "Thanks for all the, uhm...hospitality, Kipper." They shared a long, slow kiss before exiting the room.

It was early Sunday morning when they pulled up in front of the dorm. Brett was now behind the wheel, and he tooted the horn a couple of times to wake up everybody else. They unloaded all the bags and coolers at the curb, and Brett pulled the car around the corner and into the parking lot. After sorting out the various souvenirs and gifts they'd picked up along the way, all four piled onto the elevator. Scott and Craig exited on their floor, and they agreed they'd meet back at the commons at dinner time.

Back in the room, they dropped their bags. Craig looked in the fridge, and swore. "All I wanted is a Coke. I'm gonna run to the store and get a few things. Need a Sunday paper, too, and I'll pick up the mail on the way back. You need anything?" Scott shook his head and waved him away.

He checked his voice messages. There were only two from the entire week. But then again, everybody who might be calling knew they wouldn't be around. The date on the first one was two days old. He was shocked to hear Evelyn's voice. "Scotty, ya' little shit. Got the card, and loved it! Hope nobody got arrested, or picked up anything that's going to require a needle in your ass next week. Just wanted to say thanks, I hope you had a good time in New Orleans, and you know that I love you!" The second message was only a couple hours old. It was Suzanne. "Hi, Scotty, it's your mother." Her voice sounded strained. "I know you're probably not back from the trip yet, but call home when you get this, will you?"

Scott dialed his parents' number. "Hi, Mom! It's me. Just got back. What's up?"

There was a pause that unnerved him. "Hello, Scotty. I didn't want to call your cell while you were traveling. I wanted you to get the message when you were back in Madison. I'm glad you made it back safe and sound." Her voice still sounded strained, and the tone hinted of something that sounded like pity. "Uhm...Scotty...I'm going to let you talk to your father."

There was a moment of silence again. "Hello, Scott." His dad never called him Scott. It had always been Scotty,' or something mildly profane. Big Scott,' cleared his throat. "Ah..." his voice cracked and he sniffed. "No easy way to do this, son. Your Gran' passed away last night." Scott sat down hard on the chair. He took the receiver from his ear and just stared at it for several seconds. He heard his father's voice again. "Scott? Scotty?"

He brought the receiver back to the side of his head. "Yeah, Dad. I'm here."

"Scotty, she went peacefully, in her sleep. The doctors said her heart just finally gave out. Wade said she..."

Scott interrupted. "Dad. I'll call you back." He hung up the phone.

He went down to his knees next to his bed, folding his hands with his forearms on the mattress. He laid his forehead on his hands and whispered. "Heavenly Father, thank you. Thank you for the life that was my loving Gran,' and thank you for honoring her final plea to be set free from her recent living Hell. By now, she's with you and with her husband, and is probably causing trouble. I should let you know, she's likely to start an argument even with you; maybe a sharp question about one or more of the Commandments." He giggled through a choked sniffle. "Please embrace her, tell her I called, let her know how grateful I am to her, and please accept my gratitude for Your loving grace in giving her this final peace. In Christ's name. Amen."

Slowly, he crawled up onto his bed, rolled up into a ball, and sobbed into his pillow.

Author's Note: Thanks to Kory for his sharp eye and mind, and for the polish that the narrative needs in order to be clear. Thanks to Glenn, for loaning me his persona for a second chapter. (He really is Australian, you know.) Thanks to Billy for giving me unending grief over Marty's situation (I know how you all love Marty). Thanks to Peter for providing some of Charlene's commentary about ripping off her husband's cock. And a special thanks to James for joining the effort in Chapters 23 and 24 by assisting me with the barely believable technical stuff that I wrote into this segment. And many unending thanks to everybody who has taken the time to let me know what's on their mind regarding Scotty and `the gang.' You can add your two cents with an e-mail to: scotty.13411@hotmail.com. I genuinely appreciate all feedback.

Be Well!!!