TOURIST MOTOR COURT - 2 by Paul Daventon
Disclaimer
In the early part of the twentieth century, when motor vehicles were becoming plentiful, forward thinking individuals figured that those motorists would often want to find a place they could stay overnight to continue their journey the next day. They didn't construct fancy motels and inns as are frequent today. The first 'motels' usually contained a number of small cottages near the office facing a courtyard, and were called tourist courts.
These cottages were separated from each other by a distance for more privacy. I, personally, remember at a very young age staying at one of these motor courts with my parents and my sister in the late forties, while traveling on the early Pennsylvania Turnpike. At the time I believed it a wild exciting adventure, sleeping in a cabin-like structure away from home..
The Motor Court of which I write is a left-over, still functioning in the present day. I'm sure the residents are quite different from those in the forties or earlier. Travel though time with me to see how they wound up through there in Johnston City, a fictional city in a work of complete fiction, all characters are fictional and do not represent any living person.
All the usual restraints apply to this story. This story contains male/male explicit sex. If you don't like that, or are under 18, please leave.
Chapter Two
The notebook in which they were writing down their counting was in Pete's hand when he announced, "Timmy, this is Fifty Thousand dollars. Do you believe it? I can't"
"You don't suppose it could be counterfeit, do you?" Tim was a little worried.
"Well, tomorrow I'll head for the bank to make sure it is real. Now, where are we going to keep it, huh?"
Timmy soon suggested, "Couldn't we put it back where it was? It seemed to be safe there before for quite a while."
Pete hugged Tim, "Great idea, Tim, who'd ever think of looking there. Lets put it back and we can repair the damage to the wall. Tomorrow, I'll go see Mr. Warren, that's Henry, and see what would happen if we bring the money into the open. At least we'll find out if Henry is honest or not. I think I'll say just $10,000 at first to see what he says. If he thinks we can't keep it, at least we'll have ten thousand dollars for us." He looked into Tim's eyes, honest and true, "Are you with me, Timmy?
"Sure, Daddy Pete," he grinned in all innocence, "are we going to eat now. I'm hungry."
Pete noticed that they'd played away the day, dark would come before long.
"Did you fix up cottage #1, Tim, good enough that you can sleep there tonight?"
Tim looked a little embarrassed, he felt good anyway, "It does need some more cleaning. I can do that quick as a bunny." Pete laughed at Tim's metaphor, "Timmy, you are a character. I'm going to get our supper so you wait here until I get back." He was afraid for Tim, though. "Tim, always keep the door locked in the cottages and in this office. If someone knocks, don't answer, just hide. I don't want anyone to see you."
"By the way, have you changed much since you left home? You know, looks or weight or like that."
Tim gave him a mysterious look, "Pete, how does my hair look, is it natural?"
Pete looked closely at his dark hair, "I think it looks fine." He laughed, "What color did it used to be?"
Tim took both hands to fluff his hair, giving it a more modern 'uncombed' look. "This used to be a light blond, that should help shouldn't it?"
"You look tanned, too, have you always had a good tan."
"Nope, Pete," the boy turned so his back face Pete, then he pulled down his pants showing his bare, pure white buttocks. "That's what I used to look like."
Pete couldn't bear it, he wanted to kiss those handsome buttocks, from cheek to cheek.
"I expect you've grown, too. I've noticed your socks show between your pant legs and shoe tops." He turned Tim around, "I think we need to go shopping for you, you need clothes."
The smile on the boy said everything, "That'd be great, Uncle Pete. I'll go finish with cottage #1. See you later." He waved as he left the office.
Pete hollered, "Don't forget to lock the doors, okay?" Pete barely heard an 'okay'.
The teller at the Johnston National Bank handed back the 50 dollar bill to Pete."
"Yes, sir, that sure is good money, not counterfeit at all." The teller woman smiled at Pete, "You look familiar to me, could you tell me your name?"
"I'm Peter Johnston, I used to live here and just moved back to town."
She drew a big breath and gasped, "Why, you're the spittin' image of your uncle. I suppose you came back for the funeral."
"No, ma'am, Mr. Warren couldn't find me until a few days ago. I was way out in Ioway. I've come back to run the Johnston Motor Court, soon as I can get it going."
"Good to see you, Pete, stop in again." The teller had already turned to other business, not giving Pete another thought. She didn't like the Johnstons much, too snotty.
Henry Warren's law office was on the second floor of the bank building, so Pete went on outside, turned left into the stairs going up the second floor.
Pete entered Mr. Warren's office but found no one. He hollered and finally heard someone calling back from a ways away.
"Is that you, Petey?"
"Yes."
"Well, I'm awful busy right now, can you come back in the morning?" He voice sounded sort of muffled, and he was panting a little, as if he were exercising strenuously.
"I'd really like to see you, Henry, could I come back in a half hour?"
Pete though he heard a couple voices, "That's fine, Pete, I'll see you then."
"Bye."
Before Pete left the office, he noticed that Henry's secretary's jacket and purse sat on her desk, plus her briefcase. He smiled to himself, 'I know what Henry was doing, he was fucking his secretary, Miss Marpleton, as the sign said on her desk,' Maybe I better give him forty-five minutes instead.'
Pete walked over to the park in the square and sat on a green, slatted wooden bench, one of eight or ten around the green lawns. He kept looking at the hands on his watch, hoping that Tim was all right. He was also thinking of the stuff he and Tim could do with that money.
Pete waited until he saw Mis Mapleton leave the bank building, then head over and up the stairs. Henry's office door was open so he walked in and was welcomed by the lawyer.
"I'm sorry if I interrupted you, Henry, I have something to ask you, sort of in a 'if-then' situation." When Henry nodded, Pete continued. "Well, I need to put a what-if situation to you to see what you think. I'd sure like to keep it just between us. Could you do that?" Pete pulled the $50.00 bill out of his pocket, "how about I hire you as my lawyer so all this would be privileged. Would that be okay?"
Henry reached to take the $50. "Yes, that's the way of it. You would be my client." Again Henry nodded. In fact, to Pete, Henry looked like he would nod off to sleep any minute. 'Well, I'll have to give his something to think about.'
"Henry, if I found some money, cash, quite a bit of it, hidden in one of the buildings of the Motor Court, my question is ... would it be mine legally?"
That caught Henry right in the solar plexus. "What? What did you say, Pete. Say it again."
Pete repeated his statement.
"How much?" Henry said excitedly. Probably the most excited ever since he lost his virginity, whatever variety it was.
"Oh, about ten grand, I'd guess." He stared at Henry, straight into his face, watching the color change as the lawyer thought of the possibilities. "By the way, just in case, I put it back in the hiding place. I only found it by a strange accident. Uncle knew how to hide stuff."
Pete thought, 'Maybe I'd better make the situation more profitable for Henry.'
"Henry, I was also thinking, if the money could make it through the courts, I'd be so thankful ... gosh ... I'd even give you ten percent of the cash. How's that? Any easier?"
Henry jumped off his seat and shook Pete's hand, "Pete, that's a good idea. I'll do some checking in my law library and come in tomorrow morning and we'll see."
"Henry, remember, this was a 'what-if' situation. Nothing real, got it? And Henry, I sure wouldn't want this to get around. You wouldn't tell anyone, would you?"
"Oh, no, Petey, not even my wife."
Pete would like to have said, 'And not your secretary either.'
"That's good, Henry, I'm going to visit friends in Toledo, probably won't get back until tomorrow. But I'll be here to see you first thing.
They said good-bye and Pete left. He was wondering just what kind of shenanigans he would come up with. He better be prepared for the worse.
Another thought came to Pete. The keys that Henry had given him for the Motor Court, might have a key on the bunch for Uncle Pete's house. Since he remembered where the house was, Henry drove there. Since he was the inheritor of the estate, he wouldn't look out of place yet.
Only a few minutes passed until Pete found the correct key for the front door. For the first time in over fifteen years, Pete stood inside his Uncle's house. Since he didn't want to waste time, he hurried to the den where he'd had his gun collection. That would be profitable, but he just wanted a rifle and a pistol of which he'd had plenty.
With difficulty Pete got a rifle down his pant leg and slid a pistol down his pants in the back. All he had to do would be to get them to the truck and he'd be fine. On the way back to the Motor Court Pete had devised a plan, hopefully a good one. He knew he had no idea how crafty his lawyer was. He'd maybe have to trap him, that is, if he came himself.
Pete hadn't forgotten to pick up some supper for Tim and himself. Got a bucket of good ol' KFC, and side dishes. He parked his truck by the side of the office, thinking he have to park it way back in the trees later.
After calling Tim, Pete spread out the food on plates he found in the cupboard. Tim dashed in and immediately sat looking hungrily at the food.
"Okay, Tim, lets eat." They dove in and finished within a second of the other. They talked about how they were going to trap Henry, if that's who will be coming.
"I'll bet he does it himself," Tim spoke bravely, seriously. "He wouldn't want anyone else to even see the cash. Don't you think?"
Pete nodded, finished chewing," I'm sure you are right, Timmy. You are getting so smart," he grinned and tousled the boy's dark hair, "I better send you away to school next year."
Tim whined, "Aw, jeez, Petey, I don't want to go to school."
"So do I care?" He frowned, "You are going somewhere. You can't go to school here in Johnston because you will be recognized and I'll lose you." He smiled, "Even worse, you'll lose me. Can't have that buddy." Petey put his hand behind Tim's neck and squeezed a little, "Remember, pal, you are my responsibility now, and I want to take care of you. I would be a poor caretaker if I didn't use everything I have to see you get a good education. Believe me, buddy, I know. I've had to do jobs no one else would take, just to stay alive.
"At my last job, hired hand on the Stone's farm, they accepted me as part of the family and they all loved me. But still I was the one doing most of the work, it wasn't slavery because I could leave, yet I worked damn hard, Timmy, that's because I had enough education.
"I'll jump back a space, my boy, if you don't want me to be responsible for you, you just say so right now and I'll let you go. I'd hate to do it, but I don't want to be forced on you."
Pete looked at Tim, expectantly, a little worried, but he had to give the boy a chance to say no, if that's how he feels. Then he noticed Tim's eyes were getting moist, not dropping, but close.
Tim stood up, pulled the table away from Pete and sat on his lap, facing him, holding on for dear life. "Please, Petey, don't send me away. My parents already did that, and I don't think I can stand it again. I'll do whatever you say, Petey, please keep me." He buried his face in Pete's shoulder, dampened the material of Pete's shirt.
Pete couldn't hold back, "Timmy, if that's what you want, no problem. I guess I've kind of taken to you, you know, like a lost puppy." He tickled the boy in the ribs and Tim screeched with laughter, "Don't, Petey, I'm awful ticklish, I've even peed my pants sometimes." Then he giggled and tried to tickle Pete.
Pete grabbed this young man and held him tight to his chest. "Tim, we're both ticklish so we'd better not try it." He felt his heart thumping, excited to hold this body against himself.
"Say, Tim, how far away do we have travel to do some shopping for you, clothes and stuff." He let Tim go, "Timmy, you are getting heavy, must be all the good food I've given you. You're breaking my legs. Ugh."
"What are you talking about, we've only had two meals together. What a bunch of bull!" He stood up and gave Pete a few last minute jabs in the ribs.
"Oh, little boy, you wanna play rough, do you?" Pete picked up Tim in one arm and carried him to the bedroom which had a soft carpet. He told Tim, "I'm going to get on my hands and knees and you do the same right behind me." He looked at his ward, "They you can try to pin me, OK?"
In a deep voice, as deep as he could get at age 14, "Sure, man, I can do that. We used to wrestle in gym class. I'll count one, two, three and then I'll do it."
Pete didn't laugh out loud, but it was difficult to keep it in.
"One! Two! Three! Tim struggled with Pete's heavier body, it wouldn't move. Tim was getting pissed, "Hey, man, I'm workin' here, you gotta help a little."
"Okay." In a second or two, Tim was on his back underneath Pete who was holding the arms of his prey over his head and fell of top of the young man.
"I give, man, I give, geez I can't breath, get up, you big ape, give me a chance."
Pete stood up and pulled Tim up with him. He didn't let go, he wrapped his arms around Tim. "Timmy, you are goin' to be a lot bigger to do that. And, I'll be waiting for you to do it."
"Just you wait, I'll pin you so fast your head will take a week to stop spinnin." He couldn't help smiling at Pete, knowing it would be a while.
"Now, what was the answer to my question?"
Tim giggled, hardly able to talk, "What ... hah ... what was the .... ha ... question?" Pete let go of Tim, who immediately collapsed onto the floor, somebody cut his strings. He was still giggling.
Pete couldn't help laughing with him. "Where .... do ... we ... go .... for .... clothes, you silly nut case?"
Tim did try hard to be serious, "About twenty to twenty five miles west of here at Fort Wayne, Indy. Some good shops there." He looked sad, "Pete, I haven't had new clothes in a couple years." He looked down, "Thanks."
At 10 pm that night Tim and Pete were dressed in dark clothes, even dark ski masks pulled down. Each of them had a cheap flash camera to capture the moment. Tim was wearing some of Pete's dark clothes since he didn't have many. Pete had planned to hide under the counter in the office while Tim was in the closet, waiting for Henry or whoever. They tired of their position fast, but held on. Each had a couple lengths of clothes line, cut about two feet long.
"Are you scared, Tim?"
"Oh, no, Pete."
"Well, I am, you never know what could happen."
Tim frowned and shivered, "I guess I'm scared?"
"A few more things, Timmy, don't talk for any reason, don't say our names, you could grunt or growl if you want my attention. When we take pictures, be sure neither of us is in the shot. We don't want him to know who we are. At least not until we have his nuts in our hands." Tim giggled. "Tim, that was just an expression."
"I knew that," Tim countered, miffed. He did smile, but Pete couldn't see it.
Not until 11:30 pm did they hear anything unusual. Pete recognized that a hand had tried to open the door. Having no success, that person using a tool that could be heard working to break in to open the door. A massive crunch sounded as the door and door jamb gave way to a crowbar's leverage.
Pete thought, 'Damn, now I have to put a new door on, probably. Shit.'
They heard the door screech as it was pushed open. The person grunted, then said "ouch" as he probably caught his butt or worse on the ruined door jamb. The sound of ripped cloth was loud in the office then. "Shit!" Again the intruder groaned with his injury. They knew it was a male.
Pete had told Tim to let him go first after the intruder went in the living room and then the bedroom. He assumed the intruder would use a flashlight, not wanting to turn on lights. He said that he would tackle him to put him on the floor. He'd grab the arms, twist them back and tie them. While he was doing that, Tim would help by tying the legs together at the ankles. If he still had another rope, tie him just above the knees. Pete prayed that this would work. He wanted Henry, if it was Henry, to be surprised when he finds out who jumped him.
They heard his soft footsteps, slow but steady. He'd been in this cottage before, Pete bet, he made no missteps. When he went into the living room, Pete eased out of the cupboard to follow. He saw Tim push the closet door where he was hiding, but he didn't leave the little space.
Watching the beam from the flashlight, Pete was almost to the door to the bedroom and crouching down, not sure Henry wouldn't freak. When Henry opened the cupboard where Pete had found the cash, Pete acted. He rushed at Henry's legs, pulling him to the floor and started to grab his arms. At that moment he felt Tim slamming on the guy's legs, tying them in two places. Pete motioned for Tim to get out of the office and hide.
When Henry quit yelling, Pete and Tim got off of him, standing over him. He couldn't turn over so Pete did it for him.
"Who the hell are you, jumping me. I was just looking around. The guy that owns it asked me to see what needs to be done."
"Well, shit, I don't remember doing that, Henry. I tell you something in confidence and you high tail it over to MY motel to search for yourself. You son of a bitch. Well, your ass is mine, Henry, I got pictures and I'm going to call the police. Now. Just relax there on the floor while I start."
"Wait, wait, Pete, don't call the police. Please. I didn't mean anything, just lookin' around, checkin' some stuff."
"Don't give me that line of bullshit, Henry. You want the cash and now you won't get any of it. I'll get me another lawyer and you are out." Pete turned to head into the office where the phone sat on the counter.
Henry called from the other room. "Please, Petey, I'm sorry. I'll handle it the right way. Don't call the police."
Pete walked slowly into the bedroom. "Why should I do that, Henry? What have you done for me that I just forget all this. We got you with your pants down. The only way to stop me is to sign a statement I will type and you will sign." He whispered to Timmy, "Get out of here."
"I'll do it, I'll do it, man."
"Also, Henry, I'm going to call your wife to come get you. I'm not letting you out of this scot free. You sign and your wife picks you up. That's it."
Henry whined, his balls in a twist, feeling very sorry for himself. "Hell, that's worse than calling the police. Give me a little help here."
"Did you help me, Henry? No. Were you going to help yourself to MY money? Yes. Maybe I better call the police, a crowbar with your fingerprints on it."
"No, I was wearing gloves."
"No, problem, Henry, I will put your fingerprints on the crowbar after I beat you with it. Think it over, you don't have much choice."
"All right."
"Hey, Henry, is there a totally honest lawyer in the city, and good one?"
Henry took a while, thinking of what would be best to say. "I doubt it Pete, I really doubt it. If you want the best guess I could make, that's it."
"Okay, Henry, I'll take you at your word, so I might as well stay with you. Better the devil you know, than one you don't know." He eyed Henry through slits, "Henry, what will happen to you when I call your wife. Your best guess."
Henry stared at Pete from the floor, "From the position I'm in, probably not much. She knows that I sometimes skirt a lot of corners to work the truth my way." He smiled, "She does know that my livelihood depends a lot of that." His voice faded away in regret and desperation.
"I will type up the confession you will sign, but we'll wait until she gets here." He went to the phone in the living room, "Henry, what's the number?" Pete punched in the numbers.
"Hi, is this Mrs Henry Warren?"
"Hi, this is Peter Johnston, do you know who I am?"
"That's right, and your husband is in my motel office. I'd appreciate it if you would come now to pick him up."
"I'm afraid he can't come to the phone, he's tied up."
Pete laughed, "No, Mrs. Warren, I haven't killed him, but I would have liked to. You know where the motel is?"
"That's good, Ma'am, you say about 20 minutes? ..... Good we'll be waiting. Come through the office door, we'll be in back."
"Thank you." Pete put the receiver on the phone base. In the outer office, Pete sat down at the desk behind the counter. At that point he could see Tim hiding on the other side of the counter.
He whispered, "Tim, I will tell you everything she says. I don't want either of them to see you, since they might know who you are and we don't want that, okay? Stay in the first cottage. I'll come to get you when they have gone home."
Tim nodded and Pete opened the outside door so he could crawl out without being seen. Back to writing Henry's confession and his promise to complete transferral of Peter Johnston's goods to Pete.
When he finished typing, he took that paper to Henry so he could sign it. Since Henry couldn't sign with his hands behind his back, Pete untied his right hand, leaving the left hand tied to the bed rail.
After Henry signed, Pete promised, "I will make two more copies, one for you and one for my safety deposit box. I think that should keep us both honest. And, when I find all the money if I haven't found it already, I'm putting it in the same box at the bank until we can put it in my savings account.
Less that 15 minutes later Mrs. Warren came through the office door, from which he led her to his bedroom where Henry was still lying on the floor in his burglary outfit, all black plus black ski mask, all tied up. How Henry had managed to corral this beautiful woman, Pete couldn't understand. She was in her forties, maybe close to fifty, but reeked of class and breeding, with a figure of a much younger woman. Pete was impressed, he couldn't help wondering if they would be friends someday. She might be a help with Tim, too.
She turned to Pete, "Hi, Pete, I'm Amanda Warren, wife of this old reprobate."
Pete pointed to Henry, "See, I said he was all tied up and he is. I'm going to untie him and give you his copy of the confession. I used no undue force to subdue him. I also have pictures of him just where he is very recognizable. He knows what he is going to do, and he may tell you all about it. To give you a start, he was going to steal a lot of cash I told him my uncle left in this building. I really didn't want that so I sort of guessed when he'd come and showed him the welcoming committee. I could have called the police, but I didn't want to have to break in another attorney. He'll do it if he doesn't want me to take the pictures to the police. I'm trying to be fair, and want my whole inheritance, not just part. If he does well, I might give him a bonus."
"Thanks, Pete, you are being fair. I'll remember this. He does sometimes gets carried away with what you'd call skullduggery. He's had some close calls, but not this close. Thanks, again, Pete. I'll owe you one." She gave him a smile, "Count on it."
She helped Henry up, giving him some warning looks that would have killed a lesser man. "Pete, we'll come back to get his car tomorrow."
As soon as her car left the grounds, Tim was back in the office building, "Hey, Petey, how did it go with the Mrs. Warren? Did she lambaste him? Or just chew his ass."
Pete couldn't agree with him, "No, she didn't any of that. Mrs. Amanda Warren is a real fine woman. How she got stuck with Henry Warren I can't imagine. Maybe he's a hot lover, though I doubt it, not anyone who is that much in love with himself. I have a feeling that he sowed his wild oats when young, and has nothing left to wag."
"Petey, can I have a beer? Please."
"No, it's too late, we need to be in bed. And you are too young and innocent."
Timmy proudly, "Petey I helped you subdue the robber and tied him up. I should get some sort of reward." Pete walked to the refrigerator, uncapped two bottles of beer handing one to Tim. Pete was thinking he rather give Timmy a different kind of reward, but told himself 'no'.
"Thanks, Pete, you are a nice guy." Tim went to hug Pete, something he hadn't before.
"And I'm not very innocent, I've been on my own for three months, a lot has happened since then."
Pete hesitated, worried and serious, "Timmy, did anyone abuse you, or try to attack you?"
The two men, young and older, sat on the couch in the living room, close together. Pete put his arm around Timmy's shoulders, "You are a good scout, Tonto, I was glad to have you on my side." He squeezed his young responsibility, he felt an ache in his heart for the poor lad, maybe he could make up for the neglect and abuse of his parents. He mainly hoped Tim liked him.
The night was stilled, cool and damp, but still a nice night to sleep well. Tim was in bed of Cottage One, a little better than the real. Pete's uncle, he remembered, would save that one for his best customers. His uncle often complained to Pete that most of his customers would take a cottage to screw or be screwed, stay an hour or so. Peter still charged them the full night's rent since he had to clean up after them. Sometimes that was really disgusting, he said, but he wouldn't tell Pete what he meant about disgusting.
A sharp sound woke Tim, probably an owl, or a rabbit being killed. Tim was scared, so dark and spooky, really frightened for the first time since he'd been on his own. There had been a couple of time when he was attacked, but he was able to run and hide. He didn't know what they wanted, he sure didn't have any money. He never realized it might be because he had a cock and an ass they'd like to play with. No fun for Tim, thought.
The wind came up and his cottage began to creak and crack, strange noises all around him. 'Geez, this is scary, wish I had somebody to sleep next to and keep warm.' He did understand inside that he needed a person who would comfort him and hold him, a deep friend who would look after him. 'Hey,' he thought,' I do have someone like that. I have Pete.' He found the flashlight Pete had given him for protection in the night. It wasn't cold out so he didn't put any clothes on, he'd go to the office in just his boxers and t-shirt.
Pete had given Tim a key to the office so in an emergency he could get in. Timmy whispered to himself, "This has got to be an emergency, I need help." He smiled with his rationalization, 'but a man's gotta do what a man's got to do.'. He felt better already.
Pete had been asleep, but the noise of the front door opening woke him. He wasn't scared because he knew Tim had the only key besides himself. He followed the steps in his mind as Tim moved through the cottage, surreptitiously and cautiously, soon he reached the bedroom. Pete couldn't think what Tim could want though he was sure he'd learn very soon.
Tim whispered, "Pete?" No answer.
"Are you asleep, Pete?" No answer.
"Oh well." Tim felt he was safe. He'd answer questions in the morning.
Gingerly Tim eased himself under Pete's covers, inched his legs toward the bottom while his body followed to the middle where it met another body.
"Timmy, I hope that's you, I hope a whole lot," Pete whispered, "I could use some warming up, if you don't mind."
Tim laughed warmly, "You knew I was comin' over, probably before I knew it myself. Right?"
Pete turned over to face his young friend, "Timmy, I'll give you warmth and a lot of comfort, I hope. What ever you want, my dear boy, I'll do my best." He smiled broadly, but he felt in his heart that he was falling in love with the winsome young man with the sweetest smile and winning ways. The pure innocence in Tim's deep blue eyes drew Pete to the beautiful aura of his young mind and the growing need in himself to embrace him.
"Timmy, this is fine if it is what you want, I'll be happy to have a bed mate. How about you get on your stomach next to me and rest your head on my chest and put an arm over me. I will hold you too with my arm. Does that sound good?" He held his breath, hoping that Tim would agree.
"Sure, Petey, I used to sleep with my brothers like this, especially my older brother. He was about your size, but not anywhere near as nice as you. I feel most comfortable and snug."
Pete cautioned, "However, if we are going to sleep together, you must keep your clothes in Cottage One and the bed must be disarranged daily. That you must do when you go get your clothes on. Okay?"
"That's okay, Pete, I won't mind that at all. I feel like this is my home with you, that we are related, maybe. That's my theory of relativity." He giggled.
After Pete guffawed, he challenged, "What do you know about the Theory of Relativity? Tell me."
Tim snuggled against Pete, "This is relativity, being with you like we are relatives." He sighed and relaxed, "Good night, Petey."
Pete knew Tim would be asleep long before he could discover unconsciousness himself.
That same night at the Warren's home on Trail Ridge Drive, only for the very wealthy citizens of Johnston City. Their house was an expensive one and a large one. Mrs. Amanda Warren had paid for it with inherited wealth from her parents, wealth that her husband, Henry, would never touch while she lived, and even afterward, because they had a prenuptial agreement. Her money would go back to her family members, in trust for the future. Of course their son, Montgomery, would have residual income though he'd not be informed of the face amount until he was thirty years old. Montgomery, then in his mid twenties, had just finished a masters degree in Political Science at the local college. Even though he had searched around the city, he hadn't found a position of any sort. There was a basic flaw in his investigations, he never looked outside of the city for a job. Montgomery has some other basic flaws, especially with Mummy.
"Henry, what ever gave you the idea to steal from Pete Johnston? You could be easily disbarred as an attorney. Sometimes you astound me as to your stupidity, your complete lack of honest intelligence and your inability to look ahead to the consequences of your actions." She shook her head at him, "It's gotten so you come up with behavior so incongruous for an attorney, especially for one who expects to stay our of prison. How come, Henry?"
"Geez, Mandy, the guy will have tons of bucks and I know we should have a lot of it."
"You are demented, out of your head. All Pete has to do with the pictures of you in his cottage, tied up with a ski mask on, and the confession you signed. You should be so thankful he called me and not the police."
"Oh, Mandy, he wouldn't have called the police because he'd have had to explain all the money he found."
Amanda Warren gave her husband, Henry, a look that should kill. "I'm warning you, Henry, you will have that money he has put into probate with the property in his name as the inheritor. There will be no situation that will occur to cause him trouble. Got that, Henry."
"Yeah."
"Also, if you don't, I will divorce you on the grounds of incompatibility. I know some good lawyers in this city who would be ecstatic to take you on." She stood over him as he lay on their bed, "You will no longer have any of my money to play with OR live on. And that's the Facts of Life for you, Henry Warren, Esq. You understand?"
Henry looked contrite, but actually he was scared shitless. He'd starve if he didn't have her money for support. He didn't make enough at this law practice to pay for the secretary, let alone money for himself. "Sure, honey, I'll change, I'll be good."
"No, Henry, you won't change, I know that. But, keep thinking about the money you won't have if we divorce. And if we do, you will get nothing." Her voice was warning enough for Henry, he better do his best for Pete and keep out of trouble.
Elsewhere in the Warren house, Montgomery Warren, usually called Monty, was talking on the phone to a friend of his, actually his best friend. Monty had the second floor of a whole wing of the Warren mansion. His section was furnished with two bedrooms, two huge baths and one sauna besides an office/study room, a fitness room and one large playroom. Just like when he was a teenager. Now at 25 years of age Monty was ensconced in his suite and planned to stay there. He had his mummy by the balls, or rather the short and curlies, she wouldn't kick him out, ever. Just so mummy didn't find where he'd hidden the pictures, he had no worries.
"Hey, Monty, are you with me? What do you think? I'd like to come over," Brett Morgan pleaded with his very good friend, a friend who was seven years older than him. Brett that night was horny as hell and needed Monty. Brett couldn't have Monty over to his parents house. He'd never be able to explain why his best friend was so old, primarily why as a high school senior, Brett was with him. Brett didn't like Monty that well, but he loved his huge cock up his ass.
"I don't know, Brett, I'm sort of tired, I've worked out today, did my running and worked on the machines. You need to come over that bad?" Monty had adopted a patronizing attitude with Brett, "You gotta remember I don't need you, we're friends, but I got other playtime friends."
"Please, Monty, I'll be real good to you. You can do me, if you want." Now Brett was pleading, begging with his biggest plus factor, his ass. He knew that Monty loved his ass, loved every inch of depth, where Brett could accept Monty. Brett had been working with larger and larger dildos so he could take Monty's Monster. "I'm all hot and juicy, Mont, I've been preparing myself every night. Please?"
Monty was remembering the last time with Brett, he didn't think he'd ever forget that. When he did that, his body was reacting massively and wetting his jock.
"Oh, okay, Brett, I'll open the side door in 15 minutes. Is that okay?"
With a grateful sigh, Brett accepted, "I'll be there in 15 minutes. Wait for me now, don't get ahead of me."
"See ya, Brett." Monty's suite had an outside stairs where Brett could get to his rooms without anyone knowing.
A week later Pete's inheritance and financial arrangements had been completed, much to his pleasure. Since Pete still maintained that Tim was an equal member of their partnership, the money they had, belonged to both of them. Tim thought it was great, but felt it was a little unfair to Pete since the money was his.
Tim did complain to Pete that it wasn't fair to him. "Tim, I know you think it strange for me to include you, but think about this. I don't have a family at all. I did have a family on the farm in Iowa, but left them to come back to Johnstown here. You don't have a family any more, right?"
Tim looked down sadly, despondently, and shook his head, he mumbled, "No I don't."
"So, why can't we be a family ourselves, huh?" In trying to cheer Tim up, Pete had given himself an idea. "Timmy, why don't we be related, would you mind being my younger brother?"
Tim's chin flew up, his eyes sparkled and moistened, "You mean it, Pete? Could we?" The young man stood quickly and brought Pete into his embrace, a tight clinch in Tim's arms.
"Oh, Pete, that would be wonderful. I'd get into that fast." He seemed very grateful, and wore his emotions on his sleeve, pressing his face into Pete's chest.
Pete hugged Tim, too, his arms around the slender back. "Tim, you know I like you a whole lot, and you are so nice to have around here, I'd be terribly hurt if we couldn't be together. Could you stay with me, for good?" Pete was looking down into Tim's face as he looked up.
Pete could feel Timmy shaking, thinking he was probably sobbing. He sat on the couch, pulling Tim down on his lap, holding him closely, caressing the boy's dark hair, smooth and silky. "It's okay, Timmy, we'll be all right. I do want you to stay." Pete managed to have Tim in his arms like a young boy in his father's arms. He felt very moved by their close embrace, and was so happy Timmy would be with him.
Timmy twisted suddenly and they both fell over on the couch, lying together in a grand double hug. Tim's head was still on Pete's chest, their legs twisted into pretzels together.
Both men, hardly breathing, were content in the minds and in their hearts, knowing that their relationship had developed in the last two weeks, loving the idea of family.
"Timmy, are you okay? Is this okay with you?"
Tim moaned, "Oh Pete, this is what I always wanted, to feel a part of you and your world where we could be together for good. I love you, Petey, I do." Tim grabbed Pete's body, his chest, to put himself as close as possible to his new brother, to a new family he'd been wishing for so desperately. The memories of his real family from whom he'd been expelled were gone, never to think again about them.
Pete sat straight up on the couch, moving Tim around so he was sitting on Pete's thighs, his knees on either side of Pete's butt, his chest against Pete's and his head lying on Pete's shoulder. Pete was rubbing Tim's back, caressing his body, trying to help this young, dear man and boy.
Softly, Pete whispered to Tim, "Little brother, I love you, too, and have ever since the first time I saw you asleep in that Cottage, I thought you were adorable."
Tim was incensed by that description, "Aw, come on, Petey, anything but adorable."
"Well, how about the cutest boy I'd ever seen. Would that do?" Pete was teasing Tim his new little brother, "Okay, Timmy, the most handsome young man in the state. Would that do?"
"How about in the world?" Tim tried to up the scale.
"Well, that too." Pete admitted. "You know, we still have to keep quiet about our relationship. Legally we can't be brothers, but within our family we can. We are going to have some problems. You have to go to school. Maybe we'll have to establish another residence somewhere else where you could. But then, there would be a problem about school records. How were you doing in school, pretty well?"
"Petey, I was great. First in the class in most subjects, and I was hot on the soccer field. You should see how my legs developed. Here, I'll show you." Tim stood and quickly unzipped his fly to drop his pants to the floor. That day he was wearing bikini briefs so his entire legs were visible to Pete.
"Man, those are great legs, Tim, you must have worked out a lot of extra sessions." Pete looked closer, pulled Tim nearer, "Hey, Timmy, you got hair on your legs. That's great, you are growing up."
Suddenly, Tim pulled down his briefs, "And see, Petey, I got hair around my dick, too."
"That's fine, Tim, but you better put all that stuff away, please."
"What's wrong with it, Pete, why ..... "
"Timmy, please do as I ask. I shouldn't be looking at your privates anyway."
Tim didn't pull up his underwear but sat down again on Pete's thighs, "What's the matter with one brother seeing his other brother's dick and nuts, huh? What's wrong with that, Petey?" Tim honestly couldn't understand Pete's reasoning. "Pete, I often saw my brothers' dicks, and we played with them too. Wait, I don't mean each other's, we only played with our own. But, boy, did my older brother had a big one." He grinned devilishly, "and lots of hair down there, and even in his butt, too" He laughed, "that looked so funny."
Pete had to laugh with Tim, wondering how much Tim knew about boys playing with each other. Probably not much, he thought. Timmy's dick was maybe a couple inches soft, but no indication what it would be when hard. His package pretty much looked like the middle Stone brother, Tom, a little bit beyond beginning puberty, but not quite yet an adult man. Peter smiled again, because Tim still hadn't pulled up his briefs and his pants. 'Maybe,' Pete thought, 'he's giving me a good look, showing off?'
"Thanks, Tim, I see you are getting a lot of hair, that means you are growing up, you know, to be a man." He gave Tim a pat on the back, "You can pull up your pants now, Tim." Pete smiled, "I will appreciate and enjoy watching you grow up, little brother.
Timmy fell forward and wrapped his arms around Pete's neck. "Thanks, Pete, I'm glad to be with you. Hope we can be together ... forever." Peter also loved the brilliant smile and bright shining eyes on Tim's face,
Pete hugged Tim, "I agree, I hope so too."
Pete had gotten postcards from his boys in Knoxville, Iowa, in fact quite a few of them in the three months he'd been away. Once a week, Pete made a special phone call to talk to each of them, interrogating each one on his activities during the previous week. Pete told their father what he'd been working at, mostly the motel, and their father should tell the boys.
Tim had been with Pete about a month. They were growing closer together, caring for each other with deeper emotions and more fantastic dreams. Tim had been sleeping with Pete every night since that first night when they slept close together.
There had been no sex between Tim and Pete, none. In their minds each of them longed to be that way, to be actually 'with' the other. But, Pete would have none of it, Tim was too young, too inexperienced, too innocent. The older man should be strong and not give in to his sexual appetite, not with a juvenile.
Of course Pete could feel Tim's hard cock against his leg sometimes as they slept, and Tim had his leg on top of Pete's erection, pulsing and spasming. Once Pete had explained his reasons for not having sex with him, Tim seemed to understand what they had to do. Pete knew that Tim would disappear into a cottage bathroom while cleaning up. Actually, Tim needed to do a better job cleaning up the residue from his masturbation.
Pete did cook some, they ate breakfast and lunch in the office cottage, but in the evening either Pete would bring take out back to them. Other times they would go out of town, down to Van Wert for some food. On the way back to Johnston, usually Tim would lay on the bench seat with his head in Pete's lap, curled up and sleep. The bouncing of Tim's head on his lap would cause an erection and, some evenings, Pete's cock would erupt with its offerings to the god of love. Pete wondered if Tim were actually unconscious to the effect his head was having on his patron. He did notice that Tim would wake up back in Johnston with a devilish smile on his face. Pete wanted to kiss off that lovely countenance, but held true to his morality concerns.
Tim did not go to church with Pete, they didn't want anyone to know that he was still in the city. So, Pete would be part of the congregation and describe the whole service when he got home. The two young men would sit against each other on the couch, cuddling, holding each other. This became a special routine for them on each Sunday, after which Pete would cook up a real Sunday dinner, meat, potatoes, vegetable and dessert. Then ..... they both took a nap.
After his $50,000 was assured and in the bank, Pete decided to tithe to the Lutheran church. He had been welcomed there and the old pastor even remembered him. He felt that someone had been watching over him during his treks to strange places, especially in Iowa. And, of course, his good fortune in inheriting his uncles estate was a huge gain. He also felt he needed to thanks the Lord for bringing Tim into his life. So Pete wrote a $5000 check to the Lutheran church where he attended.
Pete hadn't open the motel at that time. He had some work to do to make the business a reality, and a profit-making organization. He had visited the city government offices to learn how to open up. He was allowed to continue the licenses which his uncle had had for years. He paid the fees and would be allowed to start receiving customers.
Tim and Pete spent some hours learning to run the cash register, knowing what to ask people who stop to rent a room for the night. Taking in cash, credit cards, checks brought many questions. Are the checks good or not? Has the credit card been stolen? Is the cash real or fake.
Pete had asked Amanda Warren if she could recommend someone who would be willing and able to teach him all those things. Tim would not be seen around the motel, hiding in his cottage, reading for the time. What else? Harry Potter, of course.
A friend and relative of Amanda's who worked at the bank, Frank Warren, worked with Pete for two evenings, bringing him up to speed on running the motel. Pete assumed that Frank was a relative of Amanda's, though she didn't explain. Right after Frank left, Pete got Tim into the office and went over everything the young man had talked about. Frank was young for a bank head teller, but was very friendly, personable and actually nice for a bank employee. He wasn't Pete's height, though more filled out than Pete's slender torso and limbs. With an almost auburn brown hair, ruddy face and glossy, emerald eyes, Frank's face was long and narrow, again like Pete's, dark brows and lashes with reddish cheeks which made him look like a teenager.
Pete poked his nose into Frank's business to ask how soon he needed to be home with his wife, hoping to string him along. Frank just said, "Nope, no one to get home to any more." After that he hardly spoke except to explain the work, and Pete noticed a sadness in his eyes, sometimes a misting over there. His opinion was that Frank had a serious misfortune in his life, and recently too.
Before the second night he was to come, Pete asked Frank if he would come for supper, then stay to teach him. But, rather shortly, Frank said he couldn't. That was it, he couldn't. Then Pete became very interested in Frank's life. Maybe he have to ask Mrs. Warren about him. Maybe after church next Sunday, she was a member, too.
Pete called Amanda on Saturday afternoon to see if he could speak to her after church the next day.
"Why, certainly, Pete, but I'm inviting you and Tim to lunch after church. I know you don't bring him, but you could bring him afterward." She spoke in a soft, comfortable and tranquilizing voice, "Now, Pete, don't worry. As far as I know, I'm the only one who realizes that Tim is there with you, and, I think it's the greatest thing that could have happened to the poor boy. Okay, friend?"
Pete was stunned that she knew about Tim, but he had a feeling that she wouldn't hurt him or them. "Sure, Amanda, we'll be happy to come to lunch." He was breathless with anxiety and apprehension. "You do understand that I've been trying to hide Tim, to keep him from his terrible father."
"Of course, I know that, Pete, you and I will deal with Mr. Butch Kenton soon."
"Oh, thank you so much. I've been so frightened that Tim would be discovered. I've been trying to provide a home setting for him, he's been through so much. I've also been trying be surrogate father for him. Miss Johnston had been feeding him when he was on his own so I've taken over for that."
"I know that, Pete, by the way, she is a great aunt to you on your mother's side. Well, I'll see you and Tim tomorrow for lunch. Both my husband and my son will be gone at that time so don't worry about them. See you then."
"See you, " Pete said with relief and hope. 'She said she would be a friend and I believe it.' Pete spoke to himself.
He called for Tim, "Hey Tim, Mrs Warren has invited both of us to lunch tomorrow after church. Isn't that great?"
Tim was worried and showed it. "But, Petey .... "
"Now don't worry, Timmy, it will be alright. She's known you have been with me and won't tell anyone else." He grinned, "And, bud, I think she will fix it for you to stay with me."
Tim rushed Pete to hug him, almost pushing him over the counter in the office. "Pete, that's the best news I've ever heard," he dropped his head of Pete's chest, "I've been so worried that someone might take me away from you." Tim held on so tight that Pete could feel each of his breaths, fast but arrhythmic. He could tell that the young boy was crying with relief.
The lunch with Mrs. Warren, Amanda, was so relaxing for Tim and Pete. When they first met, Amanda hugged Tim tightly to herself. Tim was embarrassed when he cried again with her, but she understood and spent a while calming him down, talking to him softly just like a mother would. She sat down and somehow worked his 'son' Tim onto her lap, his head on her shoulder. She rucked up her skirt as she pulled him, but if she noticed, it bothered her not. Pete couldn't hear what she said to Tim, but could tell she was murmuring in his ear. Tim was still crying softly, which made Pete sad and about to cry. He hadn't had a mother himself for a long, long time. Well, a good mother, not like Tim's birth mother.
Amanda noticed Pete, he looked so sad, she knew his mother had left them way back. She stood up with Tim, and, "Hey, Pete, would you like to get in on this group hug."
He immediately smiled the sadness away, "I sure would, Amanda."
After a delicious lunch, they sat and talked at the table, having coffee and milk for Tim.
"Pete, and Tim, I wanted you both here to talk about what we hope will happen to you, Tim. You may not know, Pete, but I'm one of the three county Commissioners, and we run the county government, practically run everything that happens in Johnston County which is in our jurisdiction .
"To explain something else, Pete, I am related to your Uncle Peter, but I wanted his money and assets to go to the right place. That's why I made my husband search everywhere until he found you in Iowa just in time. I wanted you to have it all. By the way, Frank Warren is a nephew of mine, a good teacher and a good man, unlike his uncle."
"We ... I sure appreciated having him help me on the business end of the motel."
Amanda laughed so delightfully, "He knew that someone else was with you, so made a good effort to explain in detail. He would have liked to have supper with you, but I told him that there was a good reason he should say 'thanks, no thanks'."
Amanda in her mind was tempted to play matchmaker for Frank and Pete, since Frank had lost his partner some months before. It nearly killed him, but with her help, he'd been recovering from the loss. But she wasn't positive how Pete and Tim and Frank would relate. Maybe later, she thought.
"Okay, men, I'll explain just what I'm going to do and how I hope to finish. First, I'm going to petition Social Services to place Tim under your authority as a foster father, Pete. So, right away Timmy, you will be Pete's foster son. Will that work?"
Tim turned to hug Pete and give him a big kiss on the lips. Since Pete didn't seem to surprised, she knew her surmise about their relationship was right. Tim was the son and Pete was the Dad.
They were sitting around a table on the patio which was strewn with many papers, looking like formal documents. Amanda pulled a few sheets out and handed them to Pete.
"Now, Pete, if you will fill out these you will be applying for accreditation as a foster parent. This will go through the Social Services board of which I am chairman." She smiled decisively toward them as if to say, 'I'm the boss there.'
"And, Timmy, you will fill out this form as best you can that you want to be taken as a foster child as soon as possible." Tim immediately looked very worried and agonized.
Amanda quickly assured him, "Timmy, you will not have to leave Pete, you will stay with him while you are being assigned," she grinned proudly, "I'm chairman of that committee too."
Tim and Pete laughed with her, she was quite some manipulator of government business.
"Second, I am going to have a meeting with Butch Kenton, your dad, Tim... No don't look worried again, Timmy, it will be fine and you won't be there, nor will Pete." She looked at Pete, "I don't think you and Butch are on good terms, right?"
"Frankly, Amanda, I'd love to pound him into the ground until he's 2 feet tall."
'To make the meeting more important to Butch, I'm taking a police lieutenant with me to meet Butch. Butch will be asked to sign a paper making you, Tim, a ward of the court and he will probably have some jail time for abandoning his son, refusing to support him as he should and not even telling the police that Tim was gone, nor did he even look for him."
"And, Tim, you will have nothing to do with him. He will not know who the foster parent is going to be. Sometime he probably will find out, but he will have a restraining order to keep away from you, and from you Pete. If he does, he will go back to jail, he would not pass GO and he would not collect $200." She finished with a sweet smile, "How does that sound to you guys?"
Both men, Pete and Tim, stood and rushed Amanda from either side, hugging and kissing her. Pete spoke first, "Amanda, you are a wonder and the most beautiful and wonderful woman ever. Thanks so much."
Tim gave her a kiss on the cheek, "Thanks from me too, Mandy. Can I call you that?"
"Timmy, you can call me anything but late for dinner." Timmy giggled at her old gag and hugged her harder. "Oh, Timmy, you are getting too strong. All the good food that Pete has been feeding you. Does he give you plenty of milk?"
Tim giggled again, "Yes, he makes me drink it, but I usually sneak some chocolate sauce to hype it up."
Pete groaned, "Oh, so that's where the chocolate sauce goes, I can never find it for my ice cream. Just wait 'til I get you home."
Timmy heard the word home and grabbed Pete, hugging him and whispering 'thank you, thank you' in his ear, then 'take me home, home. I love you Petey.'
Amanda could hear these personal conversations, and was thrilled. Maybe another boy is saved from vicious, barbaric parents.
Driving home, Pete wondered how his other boys were doing, having a good time on the farm and probably playing games with each other. He had no way of knowing that Ted was trying to call him and had been for a few hours. Fortunately they hadn't cut off their telephone service in Iowa, Ted thought, but was desperate, trying not to cry.
Hope you are enjoying the story which has 12 chapters. I would be pleased to receive email from my readers. All emails will be answered except flames. Paul Daventon - authorpaul@mail.com