Author's Note:
Hey everyone, this is my first submission to the Nifty Archive. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I am writing it. I'm trying to get as much realism as is possible in a story of this type, so the characters will need to get to know each other before there is any sex. It's also not exactly a 'two guys fall in love, and live happily ever after' story, there are going to be a few bumps in the road.
If you have any comments or constructive criticisms or whatever then e-mail me: mystories@btinternet.com
Disclaimer:
This story is a work of fiction. I don't know or own any of the celebrities mentioned in it. I also don't know anything about the personalities or sexual orientations of any of the members of *NSYNC, and the purpose of this story is not to imply anything about them. Secondly, this story contains adult themes and content as well as gay relationships. If you're too young to, or don't want to, read what's contained within, then leave now. Everyone else, enjoy...
Under Management by Tris
Chapter 12
I ticked off another box on the form in front of me, as the current applicant ran through a list of previous employment. He was short, but well built, with a crew cut and was currently residing in my 'maybe' column.
I had seen thirty six people so far today, and it was now mid-afternoon. I hadn't taken a break for lunch; I had simply asked my secretary to bring me something from the cafeteria. Five and half hours earlier, at nine o'clock, interviewee #001 was subjected to my interrogation. I'll admit now that I may have been slightly hard on the guy, but it was the first job interview that I had ever conducted and I didn't want to mess it up - so instead I bombarded him with questions. However, I didn't have much sympathy for him, since he had performed well, and was almost certainly going to be offered a position on the *NSYNC tour.
My mind was gradually slipping away from me, and so I decided to call a twenty minute recess when I reached number forty. I found myself thinking about anything but what I should've been - the dancer's auditions on the other side of the compound, the guys singing in the recording studio, the new design for the website, my brother, Susie, my new bike, and more often than not, Lance.
Yesterday, Sunday, had been normal in comparison with the past few weeks. I had slept in, and then ignored the mountain of paperwork, and watched TV. I ate frozen pizza for dinner and had a long, relaxing bath before turning in for an early night. It was a welcome change of pace.
"What qualities do you think you would be able to bring to the tour, if you were offered a job?" I asked, once I had noticed that the guy had stopped talking and was waiting for me to make some sort of acknowledgment of that. This question was one that I had committed to memory, along with nineteen others.
By the thirty-sixth person, I had gotten the interview technique down to a fine art. I firstly asked them for their basic details: name, address and so on, I then asked what they had done before and why they weren't doing it now. After that I randomly chose five of my twenty memorized questions and used their answers to tick off the various check boxes on the sheet in front of me, and fill in the 'Points of Note' section beneath. If they particularly impressed me I asterisked their form and wrote their application number in the 'Yes' column in a table on a separate sheet. I now had eleven of these numbers in that column.
If someone was alright, but didn't really convince me that were the person for the job, they were a maybe, if I took a dislike to a person for one reason or another they were added to the 'No' list and their form was marked with an X.
This interviewee did nothing to change his status of a maybe, and after the final question, "How do you think you would cope working and living with same people for three months?" the middle column was where he remained.
Once he had left the room, there was a pause before another man entered. He was tall, lean, sported some unsightly dreadlocks, and was smoking a cigarette.
"Would you mind putting that out?" I asked politely.
"Ugh!" He groaned, and then said in a scratchy voice, "Not you as well. Some fucking queer out there wouldn't let me smoke either." He motioned to the waiting room, extinguishing the cigarette despite himself.
I smiled, and said, "Why don't you take a seat?" as I drew a heavy black cross on the top of his form. "How about we start with your name and address?" I suggested, not looking up, as I copied his application number into a space below the five other 'No's.
"Yeah, I totally agree." I nodded, smiling, as I ticked off the final box on the form for applicant #050. "Well, that's just about it. Thanks for your time."
"So, did I get it?" The girl excitedly eased forward in her chair.
I laughed at her eagerness, "I really shouldn't give that away just yet. I've still got another fifty to interview tomorrow."
"Oh." She sighed, obviously slightly disappointed. "Will you call me or something?"
"Of course." I grinned, while I slipped her form into the file with the others and slid it into my briefcase, which I then closed. I stood and walked to the other side of the desk. I extended my hand, "Nice to meet you."
"You too." She giggled nervously as she left the room. Once the door closed behind her I allowed myself a small chuckle at her bubbly personality. I checked the desk that I had been working on to make sure I was leaving nothing behind. When I was sure that I wasn't, I dropped my cell phone into my pocket and picked up my car keys. Taking my briefcase in my other hand I left the room and walked slowly down the corridor towards the main reception of the compound.
I nodded and smiled at the receptionist as I passed and then stepped out, through the glass doors into the shining sun and fresh air. I made my way towards my sedan, but changed course when I noticed the dance studios on the other side of the parking lot. As I walked towards them, I idly wondered if the dance auditions had finished before mine, or vise versa.
I grinned when I stepped into the air conditioned foyer of the dance studio and heard the fast paced music of 'Tell Me Baby', mostly because I was proud of myself for recognizing the song, I was obviously getting better. I walked towards the source of the music. It was emanating from a set of double doors which had been left open. Through them I could see a sweaty group of thirty or so people, who all appeared fairly young, sitting around on the floor. They all looked like they might pass out at any second.
Before I could enter the large room, which was labeled as 'Main Hall' by a sign above the doors, I was stopped by a quietly spoken brunette, who was sitting behind a counter. "Excuse me sir." She squeaked, "Excuse me!"
"Yeah?" I spun on my heel to face her.
"I'm going to need to see some ID if you want to go in there. Unless you're a dancer, in which case I'm afraid you a little late." She stated shyly.
"Of course." I smiled, unclipping my ID tag from a belt loop. "I'm sorry; I know they're supposed to be visible at all times. It just gets on my nerves." I apologized as I held the laminated piece of card up for her to see.
"That's Ok, Mr. ... uh..." - she squinted to read the name on the tag - "...Michaels. Say that name rings a bell..." She said, as her brow creased in thought.
"I've probably spoken to you on the phone a few times." I shrugged and introduced myself, "I'm Alex, their manger."
"Oh!" She exclaimed, seemingly surprised. "I never would've thought..." She allowed her voice to trail off before saying, "Nice to meet you."
I nodded, before giggling slightly, "You didn't really think I was dancer did you?"
"Uh..." she hesitated, and then leaned forward slightly, peaking over the counter that she was hiding behind. "...You could be." She said as she looked me over and then, realizing what she had said, she blushed. I simply laughed it off, and continued into the main hall.
The music was louder in there; it almost drowned out Wade's shouts as he directed ten hopefuls. Chris was wondering among them, observing their every move, standing to the one side of the group was another choreographer Cathleen, and to the other side, among the group of panting individuals on the floor was Ruth, who was the group's third and final dance instructor.
I slinked along the wall of the hall, not wanting to distract anyone. Although, I did receive a few inquisitive glances, and a wave from Chris, who noticed me. As the song drew to a close, it was evident, even to my untrained eye, that some of the candidates here today couldn't be dancers with any group, let alone *NSYNC. Ok, I know that sounds a little harsh, but I was trying to run a tight ship here, and Wade and the guys knew that only the best could be accepted to go on tour with them. In fact only five of the forty odd people here would be offered contracts. Five each day this week, making a total of twenty-five back-up dancers. Everyone wanted more; the budget made it impossible.
When the music finished, Wade was the first with praise, "Well done everybody! That was great! Why don't y'all take five?"
"There that was good." Chris agreed, and then called, "Hey Alex! Come on over!"
I did as I was told and neared the three tutors and Chris. I was greeted warmly by them all, before Wade pulled the two females off to the side to get their opinions on the dancers.
"How's your day been?" I asked Chris.
"Pretty excruciating actually," he winced, "That was the probably the best group of ten we've seen all day."
"Will you be able to pick five?" I asked, mildly concerned.
"Uh... well... there are three who really stand out, and I'd love to work with them some more. Then are a group of four or five who are pretty good, but I've seen better." He sighed.
"Any ideas?"
"Sure. We'll definitely have the three and then choose two others. You never know tomorrow there may be seven really great dancers." He laughed slightly, letting me know that the situation wasn't as troublesome as it first appeared.
"Do you need a ride anywhere?" I inquired.
He chuckled, "Thanks for the offer but it doesn't look like we're finished up here, besides I brought my car today."
Our conversation was interrupted by the shrill ringing of my cell. I pulled the phone out of pocket and flipped it open. I turned away from the group of dancers and felt forty pairs of eyes boring into the back of my head.
"Hello. Alex Michaels."
"Alex. It's Johnny. Pauline tells me you've left already. Did you forget about our meeting?" Johnny Wright boomed into my ear.
"Uh... No..." I wavered, "I'm over in the dance studios, seeing how the auditions are going. I was planning on coming up to see you in minute."
"Oh." He paused, "Well it doesn't matter anyway. I don't need you anymore. I just want you to come to a meeting tomorrow. I think I've found our tour manger; I want you to have a chat with him. If you don't have problem with it, he'll start by Thursday."
"Hey! That's cool Johnny."
"Hmmm..." He laughed a little, it sounded fake, "I thought that would make you happy. So you can cancel your afternoon interviews tomorrow and come to this instead. Say about two o'clock? My office?"
"Yeah. Thanks for calling."
"Alright, I'll see you then. Bye Alex."
"G'Bye." I said as I closed my cell, and resumed my discussion with Chris.
I stared into the eyes of the security guard, daring him to say something; anything, other than 'I'm sorry this area is restricted' or whatever he had been trained to say. He glanced back his clipboard, and presumably the list of people that were allowed access to the recording studio and then met my gaze once more. He frowned slightly, and despite my harshest glare, spoke, "Alex Michaels, you say?"
"Yes." I huffed, "Alex Michaels, their manager, the guy who wrote that list that you're looking at right now."
"I'm sorry, I gonna have to see some ID." The guy stated. Interestingly enough, he wasn't your typical 300 pound security guard; in fact he was pretty scrawny. In the back of my mind, I kept having the thought, 'You could take him Alex. You could take him, and you wouldn't have to deal with any more of this official crap.' Of course, I knew that would never happen. I just wasn't in the mood right at that moment. I had been cramped up a little room, asked the same questions to fifty people all day. My back hurt from the cheap molded plastic chair I had been sitting in all day, I was hungry, and had the beginnings of a very painful migraine, and now this weed of a security guard wanted some ID.
Of course, I obliged, and to save any more harassment, I went digging around in my briefcase and pulled out the Jive ID tag that I had to wear on the compound. There was a photo on it, undeniably of me, as well as that it was topped with the Jive logo. It also had a barcode on it so that security teams in the compound could do spot checks just by zapping you with a barcode gun. Right in the center of the tag was my name and job title - 'Alex T. Michaels, Manager in Chief of *NSYNC, Jive Entertainment.' It sounded pretty official, however it had also made me reconsider a few things. I used to think that the directorial and managerial roles were the ultimate goal; however I had now learned that there was far more to it than just sitting in a fancy office with secretaries to do the work and a personal assistant to make the coffee.
It was with great reluctance that 'Bob' (I had now read his name tag) the security guard allowed me to pass by and enter the recording studio. I pushed open a set of heavy doors to reveal a comfortable looking lounge area, or viewing gallery as it was technically known. My eyes firstly caught sight of Lance, who was sprawled out on a couch, with his shoes kicked off. I allowed myself to follow the contour of his body, along his legs, around the smooth curve of his ass - I then took a slight diversion to his crotch, which was outlined nicely thanks to the thin fabric of his pants - I traced his taught stomach and chest and eventually landed on his face, sporting an unattractive scowl.
I then followed Lance's intense stare to the other side of the room, where, in a similar pose, I found JC. He was wearing the same frown, and was engaged in a staring match with my boyfriend. I simply shook my head at the pair of them, ignoring Lance's changing attitude to his former friend, and sat on a comfortable looking chair, positioned somewhere in between the two couches.
"Hey guys." I sighed as landed in the soft padding, and suddenly the confrontation was forgotten. Lance broke into a wide grin at the sound of my voice, and JC smiled, they had both obviously been too engrossed in their rivalry to notice my entrance.
"Hey" Lance beamed, his eyes sparkling.
"Hi Alex." JC greeted me just as warmly, "Good day?"
"You've gotta be joking." I laughed, "It was an absolute bitch."
"Oh?" Lance sat up from his position in concern.
"It was just tedious asking the same questions over and over," I explained, "and my back's killing me from sitting in that crappy seat all day." I moaned as I reached behind and kneaded my lower back.
"Hot bath always works for me." Lance suggested.
"Hmmpf!" JC snorted at Lance's comment, "With lavender oil too?" His band mate's response was to turn away and fold his arms; the deep lines along his forehead returned.
"That really wasn't necessary." I stated sternly.
The only answer I received was another question, or in other words a change of subject. "Did you meet up with Chris? Did they have any luck with the dancers?" This avoidance of the topic in hand suggested that either JC agreed that his comment was unnecessary but simply wasn't ready to admit it; or that he totally disagreed with me but didn't want to make an issue of it. Personally, I preferred the idea of the former case.
"Yeah, I dropped into the dance studio on my way out." I answered, laughing in an attempt to lighten the mood, "We agreed that our days were equally as bad." Lance giggled slightly and turned back towards the center of the room.
"But did they manage to pick out five?" JC prodded.
"They had three really good ones, and eventually decided on two possibles, who they'll replace with better from tomorrow's turn out, if possible." I replied.
"Anyone from last year turn up?" Lance asked.
"No." I shook my head, "Only eight of the dancers you had on tour last year reapplied, I've spread them out over Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, so that they've got a better chance of being chosen."
"Oh." JC appeared shocked, "Why didn't we get any more repeat offenders?"
"Well apparently..." I said at length, "Sony and EMI are offering better pay, and those who haven't sided with the enemy were snapped up by Britney and Aaron Carter."
"Man, that's a shame; they were all pretty good last year." Lance commented as Justin and Joey filed out the recording booth.
"Hey Alex" They greeted me tiredly.
"Hi guys." I replied, checking my watch, it was now a quarter past five, and I couldn't help but take pity on them, "Look, why don't you call it a day. The technician I spoke to on the way in seemed pretty impressed, and you all look really drained..."
"Gee thanks..." Justin interjected sarcastically.
"Don't mention it." I grinned. "Go home, get some sleep, and some honey and lemon or whatever you do for your throats and be in bright and early in the morning. Have you decided which of you is going to the dance auditions tomorrow?" I asked, looking around the room.
"That'll be me." JC stated, raising his hand. "Hopefully I'll have more luck than Chris." Joey and Justin both raised their eyebrows waiting for an explanation; JC proceeded to give it to them. As he was nearing the end of the story, he stood from the couch he was sitting on and moved towards the exit of the gallery, Justin and Joey in tow.
Lance slipped his shoes back on and stood at the same time as me. We walked in the same direction as the three in front of us, albeit several paces behind. "Alex?" Lance asked in a hushed tone.
"Yeah?" I subconsciously mimicked his volume level.
"D'you fancy coming over my place for dinner this evening?" He continued.
"Sure." I smiled "But it would be easier if I just followed you home now, since my apartment is that way and your place is that way." I crossed my arms, pointing in opposite directions.
"Ok." Lance shrugged his shoulders slightly and then began to smile, adding, "That sounds great."
There was a short pause in our conversation when Justin spun around and asked, "See you tomorrow Alex?"
"Nope," I answered, "I've got a meeting with Johnny as well as the interviews... I doubt I'll have time to drop by here."
"Ok" He responded, and continued to chat away with Joey and JC.
"So any ideas what we'll be eating?" I asked Lance.
"Ah..." He hesitated, turning slightly crimson, "To tell you the truth I'm not really a very good cook. I mean I have to eat burnt toast every morning 'cos I can't work out how to turn the toaster down." Of course this made me laugh, in turn causing him to blush even more.
"You must be able to do something..." I said, and continued when I saw a blank expression on his face, "...Anything?"
"I guess I could give pasta a shot... I mean its only drop it in the hot water and wait 'till its squishy, right?" He asked seriously. I allowed myself another small chuckle.
"Something like that. What about a sauce? I mean, plain pasta's kinda bland." I smirked.
"Oh right... well I've got chicken breast in the freezer... oh and some hot dog sausages!" He added excitedly. I could see that he was actually eager to attempt to cook a meal for me.
"I think we should probably stick to the chicken." I grinned, as we stepped out into the weak early evening sunlight.
"Right." He nodded, "So I'll see you there. Um... maybe you should circle the block first, so the guys don't get the wrong idea."
"You mean the right idea." I corrected.
"Yeah. But not yet Alex." His eyes became sad, and his smile faded. He gave me an apologetic look.
"Whenever you're ready." I smiled sincerely, causing his expression to lift once more.
"Lance you're such a goofball." I giggled.
"What?" He pouted, attempting to look serious, "So I forgot my keys. It happens sometimes."
"Yeah." I laughed, "But you also forgot that you took the spare key from under that flower pot 'cos it wasn't very safe."
"Huh..." He stuck his bottom lip out further, "That was you're fault, you told us to be more security conscious after you walked into Justin's and he'd left the door open."
"Don't blame it on me!" I exclaimed jokingly, "If anything you should be thanking me for carry a spare set around with me."
"Yeah what's with that anyway? His brow creased slightly in thought but his smile remained.
"Someone's gotta be around to look after the five of you... as our little predicament just now proved." I grinned smugly.
"Oh sure rub it in why don't you?" Lance laughed, leading me into a large sitting room. "You want anything?" He asked as he directed for me to sit down on a large black leather couch.
"A beer would go down pretty well." I smiled hopefully.
"Sure thing." He turned heading towards a door on one side of the room, "Make yourself at home." He called as he pushed through a swing door and left the room.
After several moments of sitting in silence I got up from my position on the couch and wondered over to the photographs positioned neatly on the mantle piece. The central and most prominent one was of Lance, his sister and parents all huddled together, sitting on the hood of what looked like a red Chevrolet. To the left and right of this were group photos of the guys. The picture on the left was an informal one, it looked like one of those where you set the timer on the camera and then there's a mad dash to get into position, with everyone fighting to get into the front and center. The five of them were smiling. To the right of the family photo was a publicity shot of the band, they were all dressed similarly in street wear and each looked considerably younger than they did now.
I stepped back from the mantle and took in the other, smaller pictures. One in particular caught my eye. It appeared to have been taken in an airport; in the center were Lance, Justin and Nick Carter, and surrounding them were the other Backstreet Boys. Again, they each looked very young. Justin was clearly in his awkward adolescent phase, proving that yes, even Justin Timberlake went through a stage of getting pimples. Lance, who stood on the other side of Nick, must've been in his late teens and the camera had caught him during a sideways glance at his new friend. I knew from experience that the look he had in his eyes was not solely one of friendship.
"Hey." Lance said softly from behind me, interrupting my thoughts and causing me to turn.
"Hi." I replied simply, noting that he had placed our beers on an end table. He quickly closed the distance between us, arms outstretched. I allowed him to wrap them around me, and I found mine falling comfortably onto the firm round globes of his butt. We stood there, holding each other, looking into each other's eyes and then we pressed our lips together.
Lance's tongue probed into my mouth and I follow suit, tasting his saliva, inhaling his scent. The kiss quickly became frantic, our mouths moved in tandem. I tried to ignore that weird slurping noise which always accompanies a passionate kiss such as this.
Then, in perhaps one of his first sexual advancements towards me, Lance allowed his hands to slip from my shoulder blades and down along my spine; they passed over my lower back and slipped under the waistband of my pants and in turn my boxers. I felt his hands knead my ass cheeks, he then pulled me closer. I felt his crotch begin to grind against me; in response I pushed my tongue deeper into his mouth, running it along his teeth.
I felt the body heat emanating from him, through our thin cotton shirts. The hard muscles of his stomach twisting and bulging and they were contracted. His pecs ground against mine, I noticed his hard nipples brushing over my own.
Instinctively I brought one hand up from his ass and ran it through his soft hair. Lance moaned his approval. For the first time I noted his hard cock pressing against my own.
I opened my eyes to see Lance's eye lids flitter, exposing his beautiful emerald eyes. Our mouths finally separated, although our bodies didn't. We panted, while still holding each other, I was acutely aware of our states of arousal. Lance's hands slipped up, out of my boxers and rested on my hips. Without saying a word he glanced over my shoulder, and then pushed me back, making me flop onto the couch behind us. He sat on my crotch, straddling me; the extra weight caused the leather couch to make a satisfying creaking noise. He looked down at me, with a stupid grin and a sparkle in his eyes.
"Alex." He spoke softly, "I wanna do something..." He trailed off, glancing down at his pants, which were tented out by his erection, "...but I'm not sure exactly..."
"Just do what ever you feel comfortable with." I soothed, leaning up to rub my palm over his cheek.
"If you say so..." He said, his grin returning. He wiggled his butt, and I bucked upwards pushing cock against it. He leaned over and kissed me once more on the lips as his hands roamed over my torso, eventually finding the buttons on my shirt; he began to undo them.
For the first time I slid my hands down passed the base of his spine and found his smooth ass. I allowed my fingers to explore, to learn the contours of his body, starting there and then moving up his back, taking his tight cotton tee up with them. My shirt was then open, my chest exposed and Lance's t-shirt was bunched up under his arms. He sat up slightly and peeled his shirt off, I did the same, resting on my elbows, I shucked both sides of my shirt and then threw it to the floor.
Lance took a moment to stare at my tanned upper body, running his finger along the shallow dip down the center. I also took in Lance's hairless chest and defined abs, his pale skin a sharp contrast to my own, which was naturally olive.
He then bent over again, and began to nip and suck at my neck and throat. My own hands wandered into the narrow gap between us, past his navel and to the fly of Lance's pants. I undid the button, and Lance's writhing on top of me caused the zipper to open.
My left hand moved back up to direct Lance away from my throat, which would doubtlessly be covered in hickeys in the morning, my other squeezed at his throbbing cock through his tight boxer-briefs. I felt a damp spot near the head of his dick, and began to rub at it. Lance groaned some more and finally found my left nipple which he sucked on, teasing it slightly with his teeth. Without thinking, I pushed my hand into his underwear and grabbed his cock, smearing the pre-cum over its head.
Suddenly, Lance shot bolt upright. He stopped breathing, and looked at me with wide, frightened eyes. "I... I'm... I'm not sure if I can do this Alex..." He stuttered, looking terrified. I rapidly removed my hand from inside his tight black boxer briefs.
"Oh... Lance..." I consoled as he slid off of me and onto the couch between my legs. I swiveled around so that I was sitting upright and next to him. I grabbed his t-shirt from the floor, while he was scrambling to refasten his pants, and handed it to him; he took it and quickly slipped it over his head. "I didn't mean to rush you like that Lance..." I said softly, "I know this is a big step for you and... and... I guess I just got carried away." I smiled sheepishly.
"It's not your fault Alex I thought I was ready but..." He paused, and allowed a long sigh to escape his lips, "...I'm not. I wanted to but I can't. Not yet."
"That's fine Lance." I said as I picked my own shirt up from the floor and began to button it up. "You know I'm not in this for the sex. I'm in it because of you. Because I like you... a lot." I declared in a hushed tone. I brought a hand up to his face and pushed some of his hair back from his forehead. It was one of the rare occasions when his hair wasn't perfect, but strangely enough it looked pretty good, kind of sexy, although I was trying not to think of that at that moment.
"You mean it?" He asked, looking me in the eye.
"Of course" I grinned, taking his hand in my own, "Now, how about we change the subject..." I allowed my sentiment to hang while I thought of something to talk about. "What about those songs you guys wrote in your time off, how are they coming along?"
His eyes brightened at the thought, he clearly loved talking about what he did, "Really great, we're doing Justin and Wade's at the moment. I think we're enjoying doing something a little different... although the choreography's gonna be a bitch to learn." He laughed, making me smile, "Josh's should be a little easier; it's a nice little ballad with an upbeat chorus..."
"And?" I probed, unconsciously adjusting my now flaccid and long since forgotten cock, "What about yours'?"
"Oh... yeah..." His face dropped, "Well I'm not sure if we're gonna run with that..."
"On whose suggestion?" I scowled slightly.
"Uh... well... Just said he couldn't reach the high notes... and... and..."
"JC said it was crap?" I rejoined angrily, "That's bull Lance and you know it! That song is fucking brilliant and would be an excellent one to put on the album as your first."
He blushed slightly and looked away from me, "I wouldn't go that far..."
"Ok, if you don't believe me ask one of the others. I know Justin said he would find it hard but that doesn't mean he doesn't like it, and you haven't even asked Joey and Chris. I like that song Lance, and even if the others don't, I'll do everything in my power to get on the record..." I paused to take a breath and regain my composure "...I know how much you put into it Lance and I won't let you think it was just some stupid pipedream..."
"Thanks Alex." Lance smiled, interrupting me, leaning over to give me a quick peck on the cheek "I needed that."
I nodded in understanding, "Just promise me you'll talk it over with the others?"
"Sure." Lance grinned, noticing his now warm beer; he reached over me and picked it up. He took a long swig. "Ugghh!" He crinkled his nose in disgust and then began to giggle, "I never was much of a beer man." He laughed. I joined him, taking a sip of my own in the process.
End of Chapter 12
Ok, so that's Chapter 12, I hope you liked it. Oh, and I promise they'll be getting it on for real pretty soon. Any comments, questions, or nagging about me taking ages to post? Then mail me: mystories@btinternet.com