Feet on the Ground

[EasyRory]

Feet on the Ground


Chapter 1 - Euie

I walked from a bright but cloudy day in the parking lot into the murky, neon-flavored lighting of the bar and could barely see. It wasn't a trendy Gen X, Y, Z, or Anything place. They had Pabst on tap; it was that kind of a bar. I could hear the conversational hum of a few tables of customers come straight from work and looked for my friends. Our usual table was empty.

“Euie!”

I looked around, still getting used to the dimness of the room and spotted a guy in a hoodie. His face was shaded so I couldn't make out much; but he was the only one looking at me. I walked closer and still couldn't make him out.

“It's Vince. Grab a seat.”

Vince, the guy who lived at the end of the short row of apartments, one up, one down, that also contained my office. We had one big thing in common. The guy he is engaged to used to be the guy I was engaged to. I sat down and he signaled Charleen for another glass. We exchanged the usual remarks until Charleen arrived with the requested glass.

“Is it clean?” Vince teased.

“Cleaner than a hosed-down, air-dried, hand-polished piece of ...”

“Don't say it,” I politely requested. She left and Vince poured and I raised my glass to his.

“So, why the hoodie in here?”

“It's the hair.” Vince has a wild blond mop, not a white boy with an Afro, but close. “It attracts attention. Makes drunks want to fight me.”

We made small talk for a bit, but he seemed down, Something was eating at him. Usually looking at Vince was like facing into the sun. He projected light and heat, mostly in a good way, but there was a possibility of getting burned. I didn't really know him all that well, but that was my impression. Ninety-nine percent good; one percent mystery.

“You know, I still appreciated that advice you gave me about Steve. He's a great boss, even if he is fuckin' me.” We lapsed into silence and drank.

“Is everything alright, Vince?”

“Yeah, mostly. Except I'm getting fucked a LOT.”

“Wow. I never thought Steve was all one side. He was pretty welling to share. I mean, yeah, I probably got fucked more, but he was willing to ...”

“Trouble is,” Vince interrupted, “He's not the only one fuckin' me.” He sipped his beer and held up the empty pitcher to Charleen. “I'm not used to being fucked all the time.” He saw the surprise on my face. “You want the long version?”

“Long.”

“Aaron, formerly Archie the asshole, used to work for me at the drug store. He was competent, but that barely made up for his lack of appeal. I'm not talkin' sex, he was plain awful. Looked out of shape. Wore plastic clothes. Ugly glasses. A little spastic, sometimes. But the customers liked him, especially little old ladies. He flattered them. Anyway, the Sunday after I quit to go work for Steve, I came back from a run and immediately this interesting guy shows up at my door. 'Wait,' I said, 'you're Archie from the store!' He said, 'Call me Aaron. Archie's my middle name. I never got a chance to say goodbye and thank you for being a decent boss. Want to go have a drink and maybe dinner. Unless you have something else to do.'

“Well, no, I don't,” I told him. There was my mistake; I more or less had to go for at least a drink. “I need to change,” I said. “I'll wait,” he answered. So I left him sitting in the front room while I went to change. You know how those places are laid out - the little hallway from the bedroom to the shower? I wore a towel to take a quick shower and saw he was still in the chair looking out the window. I cane back from the shower and didn't see him. I went to my bedroom and there he was … naked … lying on my bed … jackin' his cock. It took my a bit to take all this in. The surprise, of course; but also the fact he's pretty hot looking, compared to the Archie version.

“Show me,” he says, lookin' me over. I was shocked. “Show me your cock,” he repeats. I still stood stock still so he reaches out and pulls the towel away. I tried to cover myself with my hands. He says, “Nice; not as big as I guessed from your size, but nice.” He chuckles and starts to suck my cock. Then he paused and said, “Relax, you're gonna like this.”

“And I did, Euie. I came fast. It was the best blow job I've ever had. “I told you,” he said, and then he added, 'I bet you can come twice.' So he grabbed my dick at the base and squeezed, keepin' me hard. And he kept touchin' me, all around finally working under my balls. 'Nice balls,' he said. 'have you ever been fucked?' I didn't answer. I'm almost thirty, of course I've been fucked. But he keeps poking around and finally hits the right spot. You know what I mean? I groaned and he says, 'YEAH, you've been fucked.' And I groan again, 'You've been fucked and you LIKED IT.' His 'Eureka!' moment.”

He interrupted the story when Charleen arrived with the full pitcher. We refilled our glasses and I took a big gulp. My mouth had gone dry listening to Vince. “You sure can tell a story,” I told him.

“Absolute truth, I swear,” he answered. “So he keeps feeling around and pretty soon I'm fully hard again, so he goes back to sucking. It took longer this time, but I got close to coming and warned him.
'Roll over,' he says, 'Get on all fours.' He started eating me out, which I don't normally like; but he was different. Before I know it I'm leaning back into him, wantin' it. Then he stopped and got in position to fuck me. 'Relax, you're gonna like this,' he says again. And I did. I started to jack my cock but he pulled my hand away. 'Relax, I said - I'll do all the work.' It was amazing; he was amazing. I was slowly getting' more and more turned on and then boom, I started coming. I think he did too, but I'm not sure.”

Vince was a little out of breath telling me this; I was a little hard listening to it. I took a quick sip of beer. “Did you ever get dinner?” I asked.

“Yeah. We went to that Mexican place – Qdoba – over in Gainesville. The usual stuff but it's all fresh and tastes way better. No drinks, though; but Aaron had a flask of tequila and we poured it into Cokes.
Why is it Mexicans love Coke? You never see a Pepsi.”

“I have no idea. Does it go better with tequila, maybe?”

“Normally I'm not all that into Mexican food, especially quesadillas, don't like those at all. But that night it tasted great. Perfect, really.”

I got off the Mexican food dissertation. “And that was it, sex followed by dinner?”

“No. It was sex followed by dinner followed by more tequila followed by getting fucked again.”

“Ah, I see.” I said it with a smile meaning I would have done the same thing; and Vince smiled back briefly.

“But then he came back the next day after work and nailed me a couple more times. I spent Tuesday with Steve who I think was disappointed with our sex. He said I felt limp. I couldn't tell him why, of course. By the way did you know we're not the only employees he's been engaged to?”

“What?!?”

“Gettin' warm in here,” Vince said throwing back the hoodie. “Yeah, the head butcher in Largo is an ex. I met him at a sales pitch. Nice guy. Looks kinda like you, actually, except not as cute, not as built.”

It was dark. Nobody could see. I think I blushed. I never know how to take a compliment like that. “Thanks, I think.”

“Thanks for what? You're payin' for that second pitcher,” Vince said with a twinkle in his eye.

“So, Aaron's coming back?” I asked, changing the subject.

“He's already been back, a couple of times. Same thing happened. I can't say no when he's there and I regret it every time after he's gone. I don't know what Steve thinks. He knows something's up.”

At that moment a guy weaved up to the table and said to Vince, “I don't like your hair. It looks girly.”

Vince frowned and said to me, “See what I mean?” and to the drunk, “Fuck off!” The drunk made the mistake of grabbing Vince's arm. Vince calmly stood up and decked him with a right to the jaw.

A slow motion chaos ensued. A couple of the drunks friends clustered around trying without success to get him on his feet. Charleen very politely, almost regretfully asked Vince to leave. Vince left and I was stuck paying for the second pitcher.

At the same time Mac, my best friend and one of the guys I was meeting, looked at the scene and said. “Sorry I'm late and I have a thousand questions.”

I stood up and instantly noticed the dampness in my boxers. I guess it showed on my face. “What?” Mac asked. Without waiting for my answer, he added, “Let's go over to the usual table. I think Hollis is coming, and maybe Buddy and Brandon.”

 

[Kyanimal]

Awesome! The same characters we've cum to know and love, well, mostly love, except for the ones we don't.

I'm really Happy you're carrying them forward.

Thank You!

P.S.
Wet spots happen ...

 

[bs29697]

Love the continuation of your story. Same characters we've come to enjoy with a different story

Brian

 

[EasyRory]

Same characters ... maybe not exactly the same.

 

[Kyanimal]

^ You could go with different characters, and I'd still love the way you write, and tell a good story.

P.S.
Is Racer still around?

 

[Autolycus]

Thanks for an update on the lives of your amazing characters! Hot as ever!

 

[EasyRory]

Chapter 2 - It's All about the Shoes


Mac headed to the bar for drinks while I sat at the usual table and thought about the surprising things Vince had said. Maybe he just needs to be tougher, more assertive, like I'm-doing-the-fucking-tonight, Aaron. I didn't get far with that thought. Almost immediately Hollis came in and sat down next to me.

“Hey, Euie, I'd kiss you but I just left George and probably smell of cum.”

We had a thing a while ago, brief but nice, undone by his roving eye and fleeting attention. I never knew what to believe with Hollis. So often the things he said that everybody took as jokes were completely true. Like the George Brightwater comment; they were lovers, why shouldn't they have just had sex? Big sex in a small package, that was Hollis; a tight body, very fuckable, not really good looking, but for him it all worked.

“Hollis, a straight question. If, when we were together, I had been more … let's say, assertive, would you have liked it?”

“Euie, my former love, I'd never have left your bed. You'd have had to kill me to clear the way for your endless parade of hookups. 'Have had' did you hear that? The pluperfect. I get extra points for working that in.”

“No, seriously. What if I'd been maybe a little rougher?”

“Rougher. That's like asking if it's still rape if you like it. I don't know, Euie. I'm pretty sure it would have been more than ok. Richard says, and this came after he DID rape me, sort of, I need discipline. Firm guidance was what he actually said.” Hollis thought over what he had said. “All probably true, but I'd like it better from you than him, 'cause you're such a sweetie.” He leaned closer as if he was about to kiss me. And I could smell cum on his breath. He didn't actually kiss me and I gotta say I was a little regretful. Still, it was a straight bar and all.

Mac arrived back with a pitcher for the table and something faintly red for himself. “Tell me that's not a cosmo,” Hollis demanded, looking like he might puke.

“It's a classic martini with a dash of bitters. The bartender does not understand the purpose or use of bitters, so his dash was more like a downpour,” Mac explained.

Mac looked very put together, too dressy for this particular bar. I told him the good part of that. “You're looking ready for fun. Do you have plans with ...”

“That's over,” Mac quickly interrupted. “It never really got started. I do like it though when I can give a straight guy doubts about just how straight he is,” Mac chuckled over some event he hadn't shared, which was unusual because he shares everything. “Truth is I'm going to a meeting with a group called 'Feet on the Ground.' They are supportive in times of breakup and based on my history of breakups, I'll be their most faithful attendee. They want you to dress up a bit and wear leather shoes for guys and heels for women. They're very rigid on this. I guess someone will explain why.”

“What do trans wear?”

“Hollis, where do you think you are? This is rural Virginia. What trans?”

“Well, I saw one the other day in Manassus.”

“Manassus is virtually Washington. Of course they have trans in Manassus. We are mental miles from Manassus. Anyway, that's where I'm going tonight. So I'm only going to have this one drink.” He tasted it and grimaced. It was a lot of bitters.

Buddy and Brandon joined the group. The conversation was low key and fun. Brandon's landscaping business was slow at this time of year, so he was very relaxed and unpreoccupied except with Buddy, the love of his life. Buddy was Buddy, warm and open by nature. The shocker came when Richard showed up.

“Look what turned up,” Hollis said in greeting. “Where the fuck have you been for the last week? George is looking for you.”

“George can wait,” Richard precisely enunciated. “I'm about to introduce to you all and several to, “ he paused until a young man joined him, “the new Jimmy Christmas, who has recently signed a contract for all the Christmas trees he can deliver starting next November.” Richard looked as proud as a new papa holding up a baby.

“I was parking the truck,” Jimmy explained to the table and then looked adoringly at Richard, who promptly went to get them drinks. Jimmy sat and after a pause said, “Richie said you'd all be understanding about us.”

“What's do we need to be understanding about?” Buddy asked.

“Well, he said ...” Jimmy bent low to the table and whispered, “He said you're all homosexuals.” Homosexuals might as well have been a difficult foreign word based on his careful pronounciation.

“Well, I'm not,” Brandon whispered back. “I just fuck guys is all.”

Jimmy beamed a bright smile in relief. He stuttered his way through, “Me, too! I think... But I'm n-not sure. Since I've n-never … you know … been with a girl... But I want to try that, too” He bent low to the table again, “Richie and me have been fuckin'. A LOT!!”

“Congratulations,” from Mac. “Felicitations,” I joined in. “Richard popped your cherry, huh?” Hollis asked.

Jimmy blushed, “I – I guess so.”

“With Richard's dick, you wouldn't have to guess. You'd know. For sure.”

“Hollis, be nice,” Buddy cautioned.

“His dick is big? I, er... I mean... it's … the only one I've ever seen … you know, hard.”

“Don't listen to Needle-Dick the Bug Fucker, here,” Richard said as he sat down with another pitcher and two glasses. Jimmy giggled at the term.

Hollis was abashed by the comment. I wasn't sure why. In my memory, Hollis is very nicely equipped. Not huge, or anything, more like just right, I thought. Maybe my memory is faulty. I paused and called up my visual memory of the naked Hollis. Shorter than average, maybe five seven or so, tight body, cute ass, and I have to admit maybe his ass is his best feature, and a very respectable dick. He wasn't cheated any. Lips, yeah, I forgot the lips. You want to kiss him. I guess his lips are his best feature. But he is impish; sometimes he goes beyond impish and his comments, even though they may be true, hurt. On the whole, I liked our brief time together.

“Sorry, Jimmy,” Hollis apologized, “I didn't mean to upset you.” Jimmy bolted upright in response. “And I can tell you have nothing to complain about in the dick department, either.”

“Get your hand off him,” Richard threatened. And the new bulked-up Richard, unlike the old effeminate Richard, seemed like a credible threat.

“Easy, Richard, I just like to know who's packin' and who's playin'. Your boy is packin'.”

“Come on, Jimmy, let's go,” Richard said. And they left.

“Jeez, Hollis, you sure can fuck things up in a hurry,” I said.

“He seems like a good guy,” Buddy said. “It must be serious. Richard has never let anybody call him Richie more than once.”

“If you say so,” Brandon added. It's disconcerting at first, but the way Brandon looks at Buddy is so full of love you know they're together forever. “You are never wrong about these things.” Brandon looked around the table, “It's true; he is never wrong.”

“Why do we put up with you, Hollis?” Mac asked. He wasn't going to let Hollis' rudeness go quietly.

“Because we see in Hollis some of our own insecurities,” I suggested. “He acts out what other people only feel. Plus, there's always a pretty good chance you might could fuck him if you play it right.” I looked at Hollis. “Might-could, the Virginia future potential conditional. Extra points.”

“Ok, it's pick-on-Hollis night here at the OK Corral. I see how this is going. So fuck it.” Hollis threw a ten on the table and left. He glanced at the drunk who gave Vince trouble. “What are you lookin' at?”

“Nothin', nothin',” the drunk mumbled. A small but pissed-off Hollis could seem formidable.

“Well … at least he's not a mooch,” Mac observed while making sure the bill was real.

“I'll apologize tomorrow. He'll forgive us. After all, who else has he got to talk to. It's a small company we work for. I'll jolly him up.”

“That's because he likes you, Euie. If you wanted Hollis back from George, you could get him.”

“And Buddy is never wrong about this stuff,” Brandon added.

“Last week after you praised him for getting that lobbyist group's account, he was jokin' and buzzin' around the office day all day. And he kept lookin' at you, smilin' at you.”

“Bullshit. I never noticed a thing like that.”

“You really don't appreciate the effect you have on people, Euie. You have a way about you. You are very charming. I noticed that from the first day you come to work. You were Tommy Lynn's favorite, too,” Buddy said.

“And Buddy is ...”

“Never wrong,” Mac joined in saying

“Now I'm blushin' worse than Jimmy Christmas,” I said.

And it's just as cute on you as on him,” Buddy said.

“And Buddy,” Brandon said; but he didn't finish it.

“So what about that group that wants to redevelop the old Lyons farm?” I asked to change the subject. “You think Fauquier County will allow it?”

We quit discussing me and spent the rest of two hours discussing the pros and cons of progress versus tradition at the Virginia county level and broke up around eight-thirty when Mac left to get his feet on the ground.

 

[Kyanimal]

Hmmm ... "Feet on the Ground", huh? Leather shoes and/or high heels, huh? Sounds interesting!

Loved the bar chatter. A lot more shared than just beer ... and bitters ...

 

[EasyRory]

Nice to see old friends still around.

- - - Updated - - -

Chapter 3 - Hollis


So Jimmy Christmas, here in March, sold his fall Christmas tree crop. Nnnn … My dad always wished he could do that with apples. Sell them before they were grown. Uugh … That would be the trick. Aahh... But how do you guarantee quantity? Ooww!!! Or quality? And would it be legally enforceable?

“Hollis!!!”

Ok, time to go to work. Eyes half-open. Bend forward slowly. Pause. “Oh, George! Baby!” Nipples, gently, now harder. Light kiss. Wait for it ... Wait …

“OH! FUCK!! I'm coming!!! HUH! NNGGH! BABY!! OH YEAH!!”

Nice dick my George has. Thicker than average, not too long, curves slightly downward. He can make me feel pretty good damn some of the time. I held him and gave him little kisses as he came down from his peak. Scratchy. I wish he had shaved. I moved my head toward his shoulder to avoid the rocking motion of his chest. Ouch! That little twinge of pain as his dick pops out. God, I always feel so alone when the dick comes out. Just me and some spent body still heaving next to me. And is he thinking of me? No, he's thinkin' of himself.

“Hollis, baby, that was so good. It keeps getting better.” He paused, pulled me to his mouth, big kiss. “You keep getting better and better. When are we getting married?”

“You always ask after, you've just cum, George. And I always say, what's the rush?” He gently squeezes my cock. Like always, it's a little wet.

“Oh, my God. You haven't cum yet. You want me to suck it?”

“I want to fuck you.”

“Sweetie, you know I can't take a dick after I've cum. Give it a while, ok?”

“Maybe some day you'll make that offer before you cum.” I waited for his answer, but it didn't come. So I pushed on. “And maybe someday gold will grow on trees.” George sighed and gave me a little squeeze. I turned the bedroom lamp on. “Wait!! Maybe it does!! George, maybe it does … or could, anyway.” I have to say I sounded genuinely excited, even to myself. “Apple futures!”

“What?!?”

“Apple futures! Why not? They have orange juice futures. Why not apple futures?” I pulled the covers back; George likes looking at me.

George smiled in a bemused way and looked me up and down, pausing at my middle a lot. “What are you talking about?” He reached out and held my dick. “You sure you don't want a blow job?”

“We could underwrite apple futures. The farmers sell a minimum guaranteed crop at the spring for half an expected fall price. We guarantee the fall purchase and if the price goes higher we guarantee half the difference between contract and market prices – and maybe clip off half of any downward difference. And we have all spring and summer to sell the contract to Safeway, Harris Teeter, maybe even Whole Foods at a markup. When we get enough capital, we could make a market in the contracts even. Yu know the market maker never loses!. Say the contract size is a thousand bushels. There's room in that for us to make a dollar a bushel. We start small and escape regulation,'cept Virginia. I guess we'd have to let Virginia know what we were doing … George, stop. Are you even listening?”

“Yes, I'm listening. I can suck and listen at the same time. You want to lose all our shirts on rotten apples”

“No, there's protection. We could hedge the contracts. Totally protect ourselves.”

“You really want to talk business? You're hard as a rock, Hollie.”

“Money, George. A lot of money. Apples are big.”

“Biggest in the state?”

“No, they're seventeenth, but much bigger in Delaware, Pennsylvania, New York, Ohio, I bet. At least in volume. And the market is primitive. Eighteenth century. ”

George frowned, “How do you know all this?

“My daddy's got five hundred acres of apples and I worked on the farm books until I went to James Madison.”

“Really? And you think there's money in it.”

“I'm going to look into it. I need to do more research. I'll make a marketing plan for you.”

“Well …. Whoa! What are you doing?”

Talking about money is a real turn on for George. I rolled him over and gave him a massage. He didn't complain until I got my dick into him. “Hollie, it's late.” I told him not to worry it wouldn't take long. And it didn't; money kind of turns me on, too.

Richard was at work the next morning talking to our bank, seeing if he cold borrow against the Christmas tree contract. I waited until he finished.

“Richard, I'm sorry I was fresh with Jimmy last night.”

“I guess I over-reacted,” Richard said. “He didn't seem to mind. Kind of liked the attention, truth be told.”

“So I'm forgiven?”

“No, you're not forgiven, but I accept the fact you're an asshole.”

“How'd it go with the bank?”

“Nix. They listened very politely, sounded encouraging, and then said they'd do it after he has a couple of successful years. Of course, by then, he won't need the money.”

“How's he going to get through this year? Was the advance enough to finance the crop?”

“The trees, yes, provided he doesn't pay himself anything to live on. He needs an angel.”

“Like you?”

“No, he won't take money from me. Well, ok, he took a little for the greens and ropes we sold this winter, and he paid me back out of the first check. What I put up wasn't but a couple of hundred.”

“So he needs an investor … and angel … how much and what kind of returns are we talking?”

“Ten thousand at eight percent.”

So I knocked on a door I hoped I'd never see again. “Mr. Penwood, please. I'm Hollis Harris,” I told the woman who answered the door. She wasn't dressed like a maid, but that's what she seemed to be. She showed me to Paul Penwood's study. “Thanks, Penny,” he said and motioned me to sit down. “My daughter,” he explained. “What in the world brings you a callin'. And may I say you're lookin' fine.” He's not as backwoodsy as his accent makes him sound. He's a multimillionaire I persuaded to put some money into the company after Tommy Lynn died.

“Well, I just wanted to follow up on your investment, Mr Penwood. Make sure you're pleased with the results. You were a little ahead of the crowd when we put you into index funds. I remember you weren't too comfortable at first.”

“Is that all you remember?”

“Well ...” I did my best to bring up a blush. “You serve some real nice bourbon. I remember that much very clearly.”

“Daddy, I'm going to Tyson's. I'll be back around three.”

He told his daughter to drive carefully and pointed out to me that three o'clock was two and a half hours away with a waggle of his eyebrows. “There's that same bourbon over on the butler's table. Why don't you pour us a couple fingers?” I admired the cut glass decanter with the large P etched in elaborate shield decorating the front. The glasses were in the same pattern minus the P. I poured two about half full. We raised a glass to each other and I offered a hope of continued investing success. If there's anything my company or I can do to make that happen, all you have to do is ask.” We talked about rollover funds and tax-advantaged bonds until the glasses were empty. Once we were well into our second glass he changed the subject.

“Don't you feel warm? Maybe you should take your jacket off.”

You sly old bastard, I thought, It's March and this is a BIG house. No, I don't feel warm. If it weren't for the bourbon, I'd probably feel chilly. He walked over to the door and closed it. Then he pressed a couple buttons on a remote and a fireplace burst into friendly flames. In a very few minutes I was feeling warm. Instead of returning to his desk he sat on a long sofa in front of the fireplace.

“Come sit here.” It was part request, part order. I did and it was almost hot in front of the roaring flames. “Is it too warm? At my age I like it this way.”

We sipped at the bourbon. “Loosen your collar if you want,” he suggested. I smiled and complied. “Relax. This isn't going to be like the last time. I'm not going to fuck you.” I guess the disappointment showed on my face. “Still, I'm guessing you wouldn't have said no. No, there will be no fucking. Those days are over. But it would be nice if you'd take off some of those clothes.”

I began to comply and he watched closely as my shoes and socks came off. “Put your feet up here,” he suggested. Immediately I felt his cold hands on my feet. I sat up straight and unbuttoned my shirt. I tossed it on the floor. “Nice,” he commented. He helped pull off my trousers and folded them neatly on the floor. “The rest, too.” He grabbed his bourbon for a quick sip.

“Jack it off!” Play time was over; that was definitely an order. He never did more than put his hand briefly on my thigh. “Warm” was his only comment. I gave him a show playing with myself, spreading my legs, fingering my ass. I was close to coming and I paused. “Do it,” he said. “Try not to be too messy.”

I came in four big spurts, most of which landed on me. He got up and returned to his desk while I mopped up the cum with my underpants and threw them in the fire. I dressed quickly.

As I put my jacket back on he said, “That was fun, Mr. Harris, not as much fun as the last time, but 'time make fools of us all. Our only comfort is that greater shall come after us.' Is there anything more?” I quickly outlined Jimmy Christmas's need for cash. “And if I did that, I should be that greater fool.”

I drove back to the office feeling stupid. I really am getting to be a whore and it isn't fun. Not the whoring and not the afterward. Back at the office I ran into Latham, a sweet boy and a good customer, or his lover the NASCAR driver was. He was coming out of George's office.

“ 'S up, Hollis? Nice jacket, by the way.” His cheery greeting helped a little. I told him about Jimmy Christmas's need and he called into George's office. “Hey George, if it's not too much trouble put ten thousand of that into a loan to Hollis's friend Jimmy.”

Poof! Magic wand. Just like that. A friend helping a friend. No questions, no shams, no guilt trips. “He's really Richard's friend,” I explained.

“I trust you,” Latham called back.

I worked late on the apple futures deal. When I got home, I said to George, “Bedroom. Be naked when I come out of the shower.” I fucked his brains out and felt better. I really don't know what I'd do without George.

 

[EasyRory]

Chapter 4 - International Cooperation


About ten days later I got a voice mail from someone who sounded like Paul Penwood's daughter.
Could I please come and see Mr. Penwood about a mutual fund investment. Yes, indeed, I could; should I bring condoms? No, no, I didn't say that part.

“Is it a long drive?” George asked. “You came home so tired that last time.”

“Now that I remember where he lives, it'll be easier. Plus it's for earlier in the day -10 in the morning this time. Don't worry. I'll be home early, probably in time to stop at work.”

“Good because I have a meeting with our directors and can always use a friendly face in the room.” He kissed me. “And yours is a very friendly face.”

“You know just what so say, George,” I made him smile and I liked doing that, especially considering what else I was about to do to him. But fidelity is way overrated, right? As long as you don't transmit any diseases. It was Friday so I dressed more comfortably even though we were supposed to wear a tie when meeting customers. Jacket and open collar. No sense putting a lot of stuff on when it was just going to come off again. What the hell, I decided and put a couple drops of cologne in my underwear. Powerful stuff that San Giorgio. I had to drive with the windows down and the day wasn't that warm.

I got to the Penwood place and noticed a familiar truck in the side drive. I looked around and found him. “Brandon, what are you doing here?” I asked.

“Spring cleanup. Getting the yard ready for the year. Mr. Penwood doesn't like a lot of disturbance in the summer, so I need to fertilize and do any heavy pruning and hauling now.”

“Good luck, I'm here to sell him some mutual funds, I hope.” I walked up the gently sinuous walk to the front door and pushed the doorbell. A cathedral peal of chimes began somewhere inside and Penwood opened the door before the chimes were done. “Westminster?” I asked.

“A peal is a peal. Any place with at least four bells can do it. I have six. Any more than six takes forever and who needs that? Come this way, Bishop.” I hoped he was kidding about the bishop business; I'm not very religious. We walked into the same den as the last meeting. “I saw you talking to Brandon.”

“Yes, he's associated with one of my company's directors.”

“Professionally or ...”

“You know, I'm not sure.” I made it plain I didn't want to talk about Brandon.

“He's a nice looking man for his age ...”

“I believe he's in his mid-thirties,” I interjected.

“Hmm. So you do know more about him.”

“Am I here for mutual funds or information about your gardener?”

He chuckled and motioned me to sit. “I'll invest fifty thousand a month for at least a year in the mutual fund of your choice. No load higher than two percent nor annual fee higher than one. How's that?”

That meant my company's split of the load would be seven hundred fifty and my split would be four hundred a month. The residuals in the out-years from maintenance fees would be less. Not a fortune, but not chicken feed either.

“And what would I have to do for this?”

“I thought you and Brandon might want to talk it over. See what you could work out. You both seem like bright young men. Why don't you go talk to him?”

I asked Brandon if he'd like to jack off for Penwood. His answer didn't take long. Brandon said fuck-no fourteen different ways. “Hollis, I don't like 'men', just Buddy, who happens to be one. It's different with Buddy. No. Absolutely not.” Brandon was trying to be polite but the hard NO came through more clearly. “But ...”

“But what?”

“I have a workman named Carlos, who strikes me as somebody without a lot of scruples who wants to get ahead. Let me call him.” Brandon walked off a few paces and punched his phone. There was a ot of conversation that ended up with Brandon saying, “Tell him to get his 'culo' over here 'pronto' as in now.” Buddy walked back to me. “There may be a language problem.”

“I know a little Spanish ...”

“Que bueno, so do I. I'll send him in the house when he gets here. Suerte, amigo. That means ...”

“I know what it means.”

I reported back to Penwood who looked apprehensive. Soon a decrepit pickup arrived with a young man in work clothes and a straw cowboy hat on his head. Brandon said a few words and pointed at the house.

Through the window, Carlos looked like the typical Salvadorian immigrant. When he got to the den, his appearance was different. He wasn't tall, exactly, maybe an inch taller than I am. But standing with hat in hand, he was definitely young and even featured, no face hair, nice teeth, and trim. He's probably look like shit in five years, but at the moment things looked possible.

“Uh, Carlos ...”

“Si. ¿Usted es 'ollis?”

“Si, Hollis.” I emphasized the H. “Um,,, ¿Ganara mucho dinero?”

Carlos's open friendly expression narrowed suspiciously. “¿Quanto mucho?”

“Cien dolores.” I stumbled.

“Cien dolares, no dolores,” he corrected me. “¿Qué estaría haciendo?”

He gets right to the point, doesn't he. “Estaria ,,, no, um estarias haciendo sexo …” I made the universal jack-off gesture. “Me tambien.” I pretended to be jacking off also. “Para el viejo hombre.” For the old man in the den.

“Cien dolares ...” He hadn't said no. “Los dos en frente del viejo.”

“Si, Usted con migo … al mismo tiempo ...” I did the jack off motion again.

He confirmed, “Nos dos en frente del viejo hombre.” I nodded. “No me tocas.” I confirmed I wouldn't touch him. After giving it more thought he shrugged and said “OK, tonto.” Tonto I think means idiot, in a friendly kind of way.

I opened the door and gestured for him to go in.

“Mi dinero, por favor.” I paid him the hundred and he promptly entered the den.

“Tus ropas,” I pointed to the chair where I put my jacket. He stripped quickly, wearing less than I was and not being especially careful about folding anything. He stood naked waiting for me to catch up. I took a glance and was surprised by how hot he looked. Nicely proportioned, solid arm muscles.

He grinned when he saw me looking. “¿Te gusta mi pinga?” Yes, I liked his dick, anybody would. He started jacking it. I motioned him over to the sofa and pointed to one end while I took the other.

I couldn't help touching him; our feet got tangled on the sofa that wasn't long enough for two. Other than that we were just two guys jacking off. Except he watched everything I did and mimicked me. I spit in my hand; he spit in his. I played with my balls; he played with his. We were almost a perfect match except for his slightly darked skin tone. My summer tan had faded, but his swin suit tan lines were still distinct.

“¿Se siente bien?” he asked me in a hoarse voice.

“Yes, it feels awesome,” I answered in English. We both slowed to slow strokes. I saw a tremor in his leg. “Do it!” I encouraged; he gasped and spurted. I was right behind him. This time Penwood was ready and tossed us handkerchieves for cleanup. “Leave the handkerchieves on my desk,” he said.

You know that post-sex urge to bolt? To get the hell out of wherever you are? I felt it. Carlos apparently didn't. He carefully cleaned up and, still naked, said “¿Bien?” to Penwood, who nodded his satisfaction. He walked over to where I stood and patted my ass. “¿Bien?”

“Yeah, sure,” I said while we dressed.

“¿Otro día quizas?” He surprised me; he wanted to do it again or at least he was willing.

“El señor Penwood decidirá.” To Penwood I said, “He wants to do it again.” Penwood looked at his calendar and picked a day about a month later.

I got back to the office while the board meeting was still in session. It sounded like there was concern over our revenue. I stuck my head in the door. “Excuse me, George. A quickie. I just enrolled a customer in a six hundred thousand investment plan over twelve months.” I waved the contract and then left before they could ask me any questions.

I went home and started cooking the only thing I'm really good at, which happens to bo super easy. Angelotti requires no skill. Boil 'em a bit; butter and parm on top; a salad; a half a loaf of Italian bread. George doesn't like a lot of carbs after seven o'clock; but I know he likes this.

He came in the door and kissed me. “Boy, did you dump your news at just the right time,” He kissed me again. I have to say I like making him happy. He doesn't hide anything. Kind of like a dog; if he likes something, he let's you know. He let me know in bed that night, too.

As we were falling asleep, I asked him what ciao lindito meant; it was the last thing Carlos had said. “Something like 'bye-bye, cutie'.” George's Spanish is better than mine. “Lindito,” he thought about it. “That's a great name for you, Lindito.”

 

[Autolycus]

Another great couple of episodes! Thanks

 

[Kyanimal]

Nice! Rollin' right along!

¡Carlos es una buena adición!

Lovin' this!

 

[bs29697]

Great couple of chapters loved reading them.

 

[highflyer99]

Really enjoying this. Your writing is as engaging as ever. Looking forward to lots more.

Cheers, HF

 

[EasyRory]

Chapter 5 - Mac


It was early, but I like to start out with a cheery morning greeting. I know he'll just snarl at me. “The hero of the morning, good day. Mr. Harris, savior of our company.”

“It wasn't that big a deal, Mac.”

“Why so down, baby? Did you have to let Penwood fuck you again?”

“I forgot I told you about that.”

“Yes, you did. When I was going through one of my many dry spells. It was especially excruciating to hear of the opportunities you just toss away when I rarely even hear the word opportunity.”

“I truly don't know why that would be, Mac. You've got everything going for you including some generous proportions where it might matter to some folks.”

“Hollis, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me. Something must be very wrong. If you want to talk, it won't go past me.”

The poor baby looked like someone had kicked over his six-story sandcastle and building it up again was beyond him. On the other hand, it is a little comforting to know that even the hot guys don't get everything they want. And I have to confess, Ihave this little yen for Hollis. Never even tried to do anything about it; he has always been involved with Euie or Tommy Lynn or Richard or George since I've known him. Amazingly faithful to George, in his way. I don't mean physically faithful; that just wouldn't be Hollis; but in spirit he has never betrayed him in any way, not a word of complaint. And, God knows, he never misses a shot at Richard.

“Mac, I've been thinking back and after all the spilled beans and broken hearts around this place, I son't believe you have ever been responsible once. I probably could trust you. I'm just not ready to talk about it.” He paused and evened up a pile of papers in front of him. “You, though, went to a full dress group therapy session. How did that go?”

His smile (at me!) seemed surprising and astonishingly genuine. That must be the look George gets every day; it was heartmelting.

“It was ok. We paired up and played a two-dimensional version of Twister – that game where you put a hand or a foot on a numbered square matching the dice?” He nodded. “And every three thows of the dice we switched to another partners. Somehow playing it on the floor AND the adjacent wall made it more interesting. So after a dozen rounds everybody had been in intimate contact with everyone else is degrees of intimacy ranging from somewhat to very. One woman said, 'If my ex-boyfriend was built like you, he'd still be my boyfriend.' Wasn't that sweet? I immediately told her I'm gay, of course. She shrugged and said 'Nobody's perfect. I've had a lot of good times with gay guys.' Anyway, it broke the ice and was quite a bonding experience for quite a few people.”

“So far so good,” Hollis commented. That smile again. It's quite disconcerting.

“Then we drank champagne, or something fizzy, from tall, narrow glasses and listened to a self-esteem
talk about how good we all are.”

“I think their called flutes,” Hollis pitched in. “The glasses,” he added.

“Yeah, so that was pretty much it. They, the couple who run it, told us to dress for the office on Friday next time. I'm gonna go. The drinks and the snacks and the people weren't bad.”

Hollis's phone chimed and he answered it. “Hollis … Yes … Carlos? … Si, recuerdo … Now? … No, no puedo ahora … oh … ok ...I'll call you back – uh - Te devolveré la llamada … yeah? Well, your English sucks!” He punched at the phone angrily and shoved it in his pocket. “He doesn't speak English,” was all the explanation I got.

Euie came upstairs from his office and I had to repeat the tale of “Feet on the Ground.” Euie had more comments, “What inspired that remark? Did she grope you?” No, I explained, an accidental brush. “Bullshit, my well-endowed friend, nobody accidentally brushes your dick. She was checkin' you out.”

“Guys, I've added these numbers three times and got no answer. Can you keep it down, please.”

“”Mr. Hollis is very polite today. Come on down to my office, Mac.”

“No more to tell, Euie,” I gave him a hands-up shrug and answered the phone. “Middleburg Investments … no, I dont believe we have any openings at the moment. Internship? Uh … well ...” The young man launched into a well rehearsed pitch. I got his name and number. “We might consider something for the summertime; we're really swamped with tax stuff now. Oh? You majored in trust taxes?”

That got Hollis's attention. He nodded vigorously.

“Could you stop by for an interview? You're in the parking lot? Well, come on in, I guess.”

“Yes!” Hollis cheered and Euie agreed. “I hate, hate, hate doing other people's taxes.” He all but jumped down the stairs to meet Mr. Maron Grand and he was back up almost as quickly. “Y'all, meet Marron Grand. Marron,” Hollis pronounced it with with two syllalbles, Mar-ron. “Mar-ron, this is Mac and Euie.”

“I pronounce it Maron,” he said, accent on the front. If you pronounce it the other way, in French, it sounds as if ...”

“Big chestnuts, or one, anyway” Euie laughed cupping his crotch.

Maron nodded with a practiced grin. He was obviously tired of the joke. “I got two and they're normal sized.” And then he blushed because everybody was reflexively looking for confirmation at his nicely cut but unrevealing pants. “Yes, well,” he shifted nervously, “I'm a senior at George Mason, with a light course load this last semester, and I was hoping I could get some practical experience. I'm pretty good at income allocations but I really like taxes.”

“We're all James Madison gentlemen here; I don't know about somebody from George ...”

Hollis cut me off. “Don't listen to him. You're hired. Is hired the right word? We can't pay you much.”

“I live in Great Falls. If you pay for my gas, I'll work for free. But I gotta warn you: I drive a Range Rover. The mileage is sucky. I'd need two tanks a week.”

“Done!” said Hollis.

He had one more question. “Can I dress like him some days? Uh, like Euie?” Euie was looking very country-boy that day. Flannel shirt that had lost its top button, snug but not tight jeans with a frayed spot or two, and low-cut boots. If we weren't used to him, Euie's hunky looks would be a major distraction.

“We normally open between eight and nine. See you tomorrow,” Hollis said and went back to his work. George and I walked to the window and watched Maron get into a giant blue-black Range Rover, put on some sun glasses despite the overcast, and drive away.

“Were you holdin' your breath just then,” Euie asked. “I was.”

So was I, but practical matters intruded. “Shouldn't we have asked George first? He doesn't even want us buying paperclips.”

“I'll take care of it,” Hollis said, back in his serious mood.

“Did you know, the French call paperclips 'trombones'? Nice trombones and big chestnuts - a great people, the French.” Euie gave a little wave as he went back downstairs.

I kept taking little peeks at Hollis. He never lifted his head out of his work. Total seriousness until almost noon. He rose and knocked on George's door. “Let's go home for lunch.”

I couldn't hear George's answer but a minute or two he came out of his office. “Sure, what's up?” he asked.

“I want you to fuck me like you love me.” Hollis said that in a normal speaking voice. I could have heard even with the door closed, which it wasn't.

“You know I love you,” George whispered. I could still hear.

“You have convinced yourself of that; now convince me.” Hollis's tone lightened. “Did you know that paperclips are called trombones in French?”

I watched them from the window, George frowning, Hollis expressionless. Something is eating that boy alive.

 

[EasyRory]

Chapter 6 - Let's Dance


“Aren't you going to ask how my Feet on the Ground meeting went?”

“How did it go?” Hollis said amiably. He was over his funk of last week.

“Well … it was fun. Actual fun. No qualifications fun. No champagne, this time it was a bowl of Sazeracs, made with the good stuff, not some rotgut and some kind of light cheese twist. And dancing! You know I love to dance ...”

“You do? I thought that was just a gimpy leg.” Ah, the old Hollis is back.

“LOVE to dance” I emphasized, “and a few Sazeracs, I think they had a little extra lemon to disguise the kick, anyway a few drinks eliminated the inhibitions of the non-dancers. It was just like clubbing in New York.”

“Have you been clubbin' in New York?”

“Once. The memory is hazy, but Thursday brought it to mind. And Feet is so reasonably priced. I don't know how they do it. Anyway Monica was there … Monica the one who said I could replace her ex-boyfriend? And we danced all night. Just plain fun and no entanglements. And then came some heavy hors d'oeuvres to sober us up and the self-esteem lecture, except it didn't seem such a fantasy this time. We all enjoyed ourselves, I think. Then a couple of guys, Brian and Ian, did a two-man Haka - you know, that New Zealand tribal thing – they were pretty hot except they had all their clothes on – and I couldn't tell if they were into each other or just New Zealanders – they had some kind of accent – and then it was over.

We all went home. I don't think anybody paired up. But outside I did get to meet Monica's ex-boyfriend, Roger, who said, 'She told me about you.' It wasn't threatening, nothing like that. Anyway I told him no worries, I'm gay and he said 'Yeah, I've heard that before, too.' Again, nothing threatening, just disappointed sounding. And he nodded at Monica, who looked pissed off. 'Right, Monica. She likes gay guys who turn out to be not so gay. Give her a kiss.' And I said Dude I'm gay. And he said 'Give ME a kiss.” And I said no. 'See, Monica, I knew it; he's bisexual.' Before I could say a word they left.”

“You must have been lovin' this,” Hollis laughed “Two of them jealous. Good for your ego.”

“Not as much as you think. I'm always wary of ex-boyfriends. You never know when they might cook off. Hollis, quit laughing; it wasn't that funny! But, thank God, it ended there and we went home. Next week, we're supposed to be country boys and girls.”

“Let Euie be your guide there. He does 'country' perfectly.” He paused and smiled; I figured there was more coming. “Last week, sorry if I was a grouch. I figured a bad something was coming along that never came. And that's a good thing, right? Life is trouble enough without inventing more things to worry about.”

“Sometimes I think I invent all my own troubles, not that I have that many, just a little lonliness now and then.”

He laughed. “Make a play for the Haka dancers next week; they don't have ex-boyfriends.”

“That I know of … what about you, though. In a good mood and all? Happy Hollis?”

“Short version: I thought the deal with Penwood would involve a major investment of my ...”

“Time?” I suggested.

“Affections,” he answered. “But it turned out no. Plus I thought any wandering would give George an excuse to dump me. So I more or less had to do it with Penwood for the business but I didn't want to. Telling you about it makes it sound trivial. I should have trusted George and done what I had to do. Which was only jackin' off in front of him.”

“Right, that's not so bad.”

“Well, it's a little more complicated. Jacking off in front of him with a guy named Carlos, who works for Brandon and is a hot little number, who is willing if the cash is right but says he's straight, maybe, mostly.”

“Straight guys are such a pain … in a way,” I sympathized. “If jacking off for Penwood really gets to you, I'll do it. You know, if he would want me.”

“Oh, Penwood would want you; but he's really old – he admitted he can't get it up any more. I can't look at him or I'd kill my own erection.”

“All the better. No involvment, beyond a little drooling by the old guy.” I was definitely willing. “Lascivious looks; that's more than I'm getting now.”

He assumed I was kidding around and continued. “So, in the end I went back. When Carlos and I were done jackin' off this time, Carlos said-slash-gestured … his English sucks … that he would be willing to suck dick but his wife said if he did that he should get more money, which would come out of MY SHARE of the company's commission, of course. His wife sounds as calculating as he is! And all this is going on in front of Penwood who thinks cocksuckin' would be just peachy the next time we get together. So now, I'm faced with an escalation of the action and worried about hurting George, even if he won't dump me. At least that part makes things easier.”

Suddenly I am Hollis's confident. We have talked more in the last couple of days than in the couple of years I've known him. And in spite of all the shit he has pulled on other people, I'm getting to genuinely like him. It can't always be his fault that relationships don't work out exactly as both parties had planned. Euie didn't really mind when it was over between them; that was a few years ago and one of the milder of Euie's breakups. But … Richard, on the other hand, if it really was a relationship at all, seems to bear a lingering resentment for anything good that happens in Hollis's world. Then there was that other kid, but, again, that wasn't really a full-blown relationship, was it? Maybe I can get Hollis to explain – if he wants to, that is. Not really any of my business.

“Mac,” Hollis said, looking up from his paperwork, “That was really nice of you to offer to fool around with Penwood. I don't know anyone else who would have done it. Not even George.”

“Purely selfish of me, Hollis. Jerking it for Penwood would be the closest I've come to real sex is a while.”

“Stay as far away as you can. The Penwood business is really creepy. Trust me.” He paused a bit and added, “Wait. If it's really creepy – and it is, Mac, it really is – why are I not bothered doing it? Does that make me … like hopelessly depraved or something? More jaded than a Japan whore? More lost than Laos? More debased than Bugis Street?” He chuckled. “Where else but Bugis Street do they have jade and dirty sex?”

“What's Bugis Street?” I asked.

It's a street in Singapore with a large public square. At night they fill it with tables and chairs and the local shops sell beer and food, street vendors try to sell you cheap jewelry, and trannies try to pick up guys. I went with some high school friends the summer before college. We thought trannies would be a BIG DEAL. They weren't. Just a few old drag queens trying to make a living.”

“Well, maybe you have a higher tolerance for sleaze than other guys.”

“You think? Maybe so … It doesn't normally bother me, but Penwood … There's just something about him.” Hollis gave a shiver. “Just creepy. Meanwhile, more about these Haka guys. Did they mention it is traditionally done nude? Or is that just a fantasy?”

“Nude?”

“Same trip – New Zealand leg. Saw a local rugby team do an almost naked Haka before a game. Just a floppy cloth in front and nothin' in the back; good lookin' guys, too. I tried to join them, but the police said no.” Hollis laughed at the memory and then said, “I'm hungry. Think I'll go to the Subway. You want anything?”

“Go ahead. I'm good.” I was trying watch my weight. I had a good breakfast, no sense carb-loading at lunch. It was quiet. George was meeting some bankers. Euie was out on a call. Just me. I watched Hollis walk across the parking lot to the Subway on the far end. The dude who operated it was gay and available. If you saw a closed sign in the middle of the day it meant he had somebody inside to mess around with. I had never been that person but it was always a temptation for somebody like me with no special person in my life. How hard would it be to walk over and requiest some of his special salami? Yes, sir, what would you like? I'd like a nice juicy weiner. Is six inches the biggest you have? Oh, that's disappointing. I was hopin' for something, you know, longer and harder that what your showing in the deli display. You sure there's nothing bigger? Well, that sounds cheesy. Maybe he'd do the talking. Yes, sir, young man, you look like you could use a footlong. I think I've got just the thing. No, not in the display, come around here in the back. And he unzips. Help yourself. All you can eat. Again, really cheesy, but I was getting a little turned on thinking about it. Mmmm. Just close my eyes. Run my fingers along that familiar bulge. Mmmm. A vision of Hollis playing with himself came to mind. Me instead of Carlos playing along at the other end of the sofa. Both of us straining. My feet touching his. One hand on his cock; the other on his …

“R-r-r-r-ing!”

Fuckin' phone. I pulled myself together and cleared my throat. “Middleburg Investments. This is Mac.”

“Hello Mac, this is Paul Penwood, I'm a client of Hollis Harris.”

“Yes, sir. How can I help you?”

“I'm in a bit of a mess here.”

Immediately, I envisioned a dark dungeon; shadowy images of Penwood entangled in the leather straps of a sling came to mind. Naked, probably. His asshole drippin' lube. His cock limp. His balls hanging through the leather mesh. A tight band of leather around his throat. Masked Carlos looking like Zorro comin' at him with a branding iron.

“It's getting to be tax season,” Penwood continued. “And I can't find a 1099 form from you folks.”

“I can look in the files for a retained copy,” I offered.

“Well, the thing is I'm not sure if the copy exists? I'm not really sure if Hollis ever gave me the original. Is he there?”

“Mr. Penwood, at the moment, he ...” And at that moment Hollis walked in the door. “Oh, wait. Here is is now.” I covered the phone. “Hollis, it's Penwood. He wants his 1099.”

“Mr. Penwood, I was just thinking of you. We're preparing your 1099 today. May I … Well, yes … Yes … I'll see you about 4PM, if that's alright.”

Apparently 4 PM was just dandy. Hollis hung up the phone and muttered, “Fuck you, you demanding old prick!” and immediately began preparing a 1099 form. “That tax intern can't get here soon enough,” he said to no one in particular. If you have the numbers, 1099s aren't all that difficult. But sometimes the form prep software can be baulky; sometimes the printer can jam; sometimes the record won't archive correctly. All these things happened to Hollis, but eventually the form was done. He snatched it from the printer. “I am gonna fuck his ass to hamburger and feed it to his fucking dogs.”

“Here,” I handed him a company presentation folder. He stuck the form in it and hustled out to his 4PM date.

 

[Kyanimal]

Rory bud!

I hope you're having as much fun writing this as I am reading it! Learning some interesting things about Hollis, Mac, and Euie, that weren't fully apparent before. You're also managing to teach me about some things, like haka, and Sazeracs. Bugis Street? Hmmm ...

THANK YOU!
Chaz

 

[EasyRory]

Chapter 7 - Euie


“You want to come over for a beer?” A nice voice and I like beer.

“Of course! When? Where? Who is this?” I hadn't recognized the caller's number on my phone. Laughter on the other end. I'm always happy when I can get a laugh. “Seriously, who is this?”

“Vince. Come anytime starting now. Two doors east of your office. OK?”

“Are we talking beer? Or BEER! That wine place a block away has a seriously good Czech beer.”

“Well, I'm not ...”

“I'll get some. See you in ten.” It was close enough to quitting time. “Mac, I'm leaving. Will you close up?”

Within the allowed ten minutes, I knocked on Vince's door. “They didn't have what I wanted. This is Tmave Pivo; the clerk said it's almost the same. You like dark, right?”

Vince didn't say anything; he got two glasses, opened two bottles, and poured. Fast and then slowly when the first glass overflowed. “That's yours,” he said, wiping the outside of the dripping glass.

“There's some cheese crackers to go with,” I mentioned. We drank.

“Wow. Who needs dinner? This is like a complete meal.” Vince smiled with a trace of foam on his top lip. “Sit?” He gestured toward a sofa and a big chair. I took the sofa; the chair had the Master's Place look to it. “No, take the chair. I need you in full psychiatric mode.” I moved to the chair and he semi-slouched on the sofa. “This is good stuff,” he said after another swallow.

“Most people just think of Budvar and Urquel, but the Czech has tons of good beers.”

“The Czech. I've heard Army guys call it that.”

“Yeah, like baseball players and The Dominican.” I pulled the bag of crackers open and tried one. Not filling and sharp, a good choice with the beer. Vince tried one.

“Euie, we are talkin' like two straight guys. I need a gay friend right now.”

One, I was surprised to hear him call me a friend, we hadn't been that close, except for that one conversation a couple weeks ago; but I was ok with it. More than ok, really. Vince is awesome. I love the idea we are going to be friends. Two, I guess this is gonna be about Aaron. Good Aaron or bad Aaron? I watched Vince make a fist and look at it. Dead Aaron? No, it can't have gone that far.

“I'm your man,” I decided was the right thing to say.

“I wish you were. Instead I have this ungrateful, undeserving, scumbag who acts like he's doing ME a favor by even … And I can't get rid of him. He keeps comin' back. I want to say no and then he comes in. Without even being asked he makes a drink and after a couple more he's fuckin' me. Every time. It happens every time and I can't say no. It's like he owns me. Truth is he does. Have you got another beer?” I got up to fetch. “I'm sorry, I'm the host; you sit. I'll ...”

“Too late, boss. Here's your beer.” These are not big apartments.

“You're right about this stuff. I'd say the Czechs know what they're doing.” He took a second swallow. “So what am I supposed to do?”

“Go over the last visit in detail,” I asked.

“The last … the first … Every visit is the same. He arrives and makes an excuse to come inside. The excuse is always good enough I can't just say no. Without seemin' like a total asshole, that is. Like last time he said he had two ready-made mojitos in cups and we couldn't let them go to waste. So I let him in. Like always we have a couple of drinks and the next think I know I'm on the bed naked with my legs in the air. Which is NOT my usual pose!” Vince was gettin' worked up.

“I believe you,” I tried to calm him.

“He never bottoms, always me. Always, always, always me. I mean, you understand. We're two tops, right?”

“Wait a minute. I'll take a dick ... from the right guy... if he treats me right. We've both been with Steve, remember? He's fucked me more that a few times, Vince.”

“I know that. I just meant … Aaron. Yyyecht! You wouldn't let him fuck you every time.”

“Probably not.”

“So why am I doing it? There's nothing wrong with me.” He stood, shoved his sweats down and pulled his shirt up. “There's nothing wrong with me, right?” Before me stood a spectacular body. Faultless. He pulled his clothes back into place. “Sorry. I got carried away. You got another beer?”

I got two more. We drank in silence for a while. “I can't get him out of my head. What's goin' on, Doctor.”

“The visit's the same every time, you say. He comes in. A couple drinks. Then sex. Ok, we've had three beers and Czech beers aren't light on alcohol. If I tried to fuck you right now, would it happen?”

Vince smiled and then laughed. “It might happen, but that's because you're cute and I like you. But there's no way you're just fuckin' me 'cuase YOU feel like it. It would have to be mutual.”

“Maybe it's the difference between beer and tequila?”

Vince thought it over. “No, I don't think so. Right now I feel a little buzz from the beer, about the same as from the tequila. We never get roaring drunk.”

“Well, it's a mystery. Maybe he hypnotizes you or something.” I was joking but Vince mulled it over as if it were a real possibility.

“No, I don't think so … We have the drinks, talk a little … Then he just comes up to me, stands real close, plays with my dick, and then says something about going into the bedroom. And then, you know, he does it to me. And then he leaves.”

“You've never encouraged him? Never made any moves yourself?”

“No.” He thought about it. “No.”

“Think really hard, Vince. Nothing he could misinterpret?”

“Except for the shower that first time. He saw me in a towel for, like, two seconds. When I came out, he was in my bed pullin' on it.” Vince paused and then had another thought. “And we didn't drink that time. He didn't buy the tequila until we went out to dinner.”

“Weird. One thing to try, through. Next time he comes over, don't drink anything. At least nothing you don't have complete control over. From opening the bottle to in your stomach. He never touches it. He's never alone with it.”

“You think he's slipping something in my drinks? But he drinks the same stuff himself.”

“Maybe that doesn't matter. Or maybe he WANTS to drink it himself. Did he ever work in your pharmacy?”

“He DID! When he first got there. That little son of a ...”

“I'm not accusing him of anything. Just try not drinking anything next time he comes by. See what happens.”

We had one more beer each and it was time to go. I didn't much want it to be, but the beer was gone. I should have got the twelve-pack instead of the eight. He walked me to the door and opened it. Then he held onto my jacket. “You ain't fuckin' me, but I will give you a kiss.”

It was the tiniest kiss. Almost a joke of a kiss. We could have been straight guys foolin' around. Well, maybe not; but the kiss was only a gesture, a token. And yet .. I could still feel his lips when I got home. It was only ten o'clock, but four beers had done the trick. I got naked and hopped into bed. Cool sheets, warm feelings. And then the phone rang. It was Vince.

“He's here and it's gettin' weird. I'm doin' what you said.”

“Don't drink anything! You want me to come over?”

“I'll call back if I need you. He's comin' out of the bathroom. Gotta go.”

I made sure Vince's number was in my contacts list, threw on the essentials, and then turned on the television ... Sam Heughan fuckin' some chick old enough to be his grandmother. … Click … AtND-UP. He's not funny, thinks he is … Click … The weather tomorrow will be... Click … A beautiful kick good for three. Kickers have to be the hottest guys in football uniforms … Click ...

I ended up watching one of those game shows where the contestants get near killed by giant boxing gloves and collapsing bridges and stuff. I was close to falling asleep and I hate falling asleep in front of the TV. An hour had passed. I decided that Vince, whatever he's doing, probably doesn't need any help doing it. I went back to bed and thought about that brief kiss. That's a much better way to fall asleep than watching TV.

 

[Kyanimal]

I want to know Aaron's 'secret(s)' of persuasion!

 

[EasyRory]

Chapter Eight - Negotiable Dreams


“How come, I want to know, if you're having beautiful daydreams of sex before you fall asleep you don't have real dreams of sex when you DO fall asleep?”

“These psychoneurotic problems of yours always seem to bubble up after a frustrating night, Euie. Who is giving you trouble now?”

“Nobody.”

“So maybe that's the problem. You need a new squeeze.”

I could tell Mac wasn't going to be any help this morning. Then Richard came bursting in to the quiet coffee room. “You aren't going to BELIEVE this.”

“I'm dying not to, but you'll have to tell me about it first,” Mac said.

“Morning, Richard,” I said trying for a neutral impression.

“Jimmy Christmas has a neighbor! A girl. Ugly as a gravel pit, but still possesses the essentials of femininity. And totally willing to use them.”

“So she's hot, huh?”

“Who am I to judge? I go for different pheromones. Ugly if you're using Rihanna as a standard.” Richard added a lot of sugar to his coffee and stirred. “Rihanna is hot though. Almost makes me wish I were a Lesbian.”

“Let's get back to life on the farm. So this ugly but hot chick meanders up the path and says …?”

“Says, 'Growin' Christmas trees?' in a sweet little drawl. Keep in mind she's lookin' at four thousand seedlings. And Jimmy comes rushing out of the house. 'Susie, is that you?' Keep in mind there's nobody except her farm for miles. And she says, “Jimmy, sweetie.' And gives him a kiss. Not a huge kiss, but it went for a three-count. That's more than neighborly, right?”

“In civilization, maybe, but we're talkin' West Virginia here ...”

“You're pushin' it, Euie.” He then ignored me and readdressed Mac. “So Jimmy fills her in on the Christmas tree concept and tells her that he has a delivery order for all he can produce. And tells her the ADVANCE. Forty thousand dollars! And I can SEE her eyes light up and her loins clench and … It's like she's a boa constrictor and Jimmy's just a little … Anyway I'm here to get the forty gees into the best yielding short-term money fund you've got before she scams him out of it.”

“That would be Burke and Herbert's Super Cash Account,” I said. “No strings. Two cash draws a month without penalty. Two percent daily compound.”

“You are good for something. Thanks, Euie. I have fiduciary powers, can you do the paper work?” He didn't wait for my yes, he charged ahead. “And the BITCH, after she heard about the money got all cutesy and cuddly and with a good twenty feet of clearance to spare brushed her tits up against him to get to the kitchen. GOD! I said he's planning a website. And she answers me and my girlfriend are planning a website too. We're going to sell cemetary plots in my orchard with all the dead apple trees. We're going to call it grave reservations DOT COM! And Jimmy said that's awesome not getting the joke AT ALL and she looked at me with a take-that-you-predator smile. I'm gonna make a sweet potato pie, Jimmy, she says and left. And he's floating on air! I had to fuck him twice to get his feet back on the ground. It just isn't fair. I'm doing all the work ...”

“And all the fuckin'?” I asked.

“Most of it, but he's so DUMB!!” Richard paused for a breath. “And so cute. That's the tragedy.”

“Not really a tragedy. More of a misfortune, maybe,” Mac suggested. “Except when is a cute ass ever a misfortune?”

“It's more than that,” Richard sighed. “He can be so sweet sometimes. And he does work hard physically. Poor baby gets exhausted from weeding all those rows.”

“You are weeding trees? I don't think my daddy ever did that in our orchards.”

“Really? You don't need to? But he looks so hot in those cut-off overalls. And watchin' him change and shower usually ends up with us in bed.” Richard punched at his phone. “Want to see a picture?”

“Of Jimmy in bed with you?”

“No. Just of Jimmy lookin' hot.”

I said no thanks; but Mac said sure. He looked at one and then paged through a couple more followed by a “WOW! He sure does look hot!” Richard snatched the phone back, glanced at it, and said something about thinking that one was deleted.

“Nothing is ever gone,” I said. “Somewhere, in some archive or other EVERYTHING still exists.”

“The ones of you Rabbit, and the bunnies?” Mac teased.

“Probably, but we had our costumes on.” I thought back to my days of working little kids parties in a rabbit costume. “Maybe there was one or two … once we played a bachelor party. Turned out it was just bachelors, not a bride in sight. So, let's see the one of Jimmy.”

Richard pretended to be mortified by the picture, but it was obvious he was secretly delighted I wanted to see his new best boy. “Oh, alright, here ...” It was a real porn shot: Jimmy, sitting on a porch railing with his legs spread and oblivious to the fact his balls were hanging out of his cutoffs. I couldn't help myself; I paged to Richard's next photo: Jimmy looking very inviting showering outside naked. The next: Jimmy lying in bed asleep with a sheet almost covering him. “Euie! That's rude, paging through somebody's photos.” I paged once more and got just a glimpse before Richard snatched back the phone. It was a pretty nice ass, presumably Jimmy's, being penetrated by whoever was taking the picture.

Looks like you have a lot of deleting to do, Richie,” I teased.

“Don't call me that.”

“Jimmy does.”

“It's cute when he does it. You, on the other hand ...”

“What did I miss?” Hollis wanted to know and then changed his pitch. “The things I DO for this company!” He threw up his hands, sighed, and plopped down in a chair, looking a little rumpled. “Do you know? Can you even imagine how boring sex is when you're doin' it AGAIN with somebody who doesn't give a shit and you don't either. And on top of that there's time pressure to perform! Chicks have it so easy. They just lie back and pretend to enjoy whatever's happening. A guy has to get it up and get it off. That's work!” He sighed again. “At least Penwood paid off Carlos directly this time. Why are you so happy?” he asked, looking at me.


“Richard was just showing us porn shots of his boyfriend,” I said.

“I was not. It was an accident. Euie got hold of my phone.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hollis said clearly not caring. “And next week you'll be shocked to see they were accidently posted to Twitter.”

A grumpy Richard and a grumpy Hollis glared at each other and then they turned to me. “Why are you smiling?”

Mac came to my rescue. “Richard is in love for the first time and is miserable. Hollis has been used and abused again, so he is miserable. But Euie is smiling because Euie is always smiling and that's why we all love him.”

“I'm not in love for the first time!” Richard protested.

“Yes, you are. You have been 'in lust' before, but never love. At least not in the years I've known you, which is about ten. And now Jimmy's attention is not totally focused on you and you're jealous.”

Silence followed. Mac broke it. “And Hollis why are you annoyed by some gratuitous sex, which apparently means nothing to you or anybody else? It's because you think you don't contribute to the company and you feel you have to fuck your way to success which you don't have to do since George is crazy about you.”

More silence. “And Euie smiles even when he has no right to, because that's how Euie is.”

Silence.

“Do you have to tell the truth ALL the time, Mac? Couldn't you just let our illusions ride? Maybe that's why you're alone.”

Ouch. It wasn't me who said it. I was wondering why he thinks I shouldn't smile. There's no sense being down in a world full of possibilities.

- - - Updated - - -

Chapter Eight - Negotiable Dreams


“How come, I want to know, if you're having beautiful daydreams of sex before you fall asleep you don't have real dreams of sex when you DO fall asleep?”

“These psychoneurotic problems of yours always seem to bubble up after a frustrating night, Euie. Who is giving you trouble now?”

“Nobody.”

“So maybe that's the problem. You need a new squeeze.”

I could tell Mac wasn't going to be any help this morning. Then Richard came bursting in to the quiet coffee room. “You aren't going to BELIEVE this.”

“I'm dying not to, but you'll have to tell me about it first,” Mac said.

“Morning, Richard,” I said trying for a neutral impression.

“Jimmy Christmas has a neighbor! A girl. Ugly as a gravel pit, but still possesses the essentials of femininity. And totally willing to use them.”

“So she's hot, huh?”

“Who am I to judge? I go for different pheromones. Ugly if you're using Rihanna as a standard.” Richard added a lot of sugar to his coffee and stirred. “Rihanna is hot though. Almost makes me wish I were a Lesbian.”

“Let's get back to life on the farm. So this ugly but hot chick meanders up the path and says …?”

“Says, 'Growin' Christmas trees?' in a sweet little drawl. Keep in mind she's lookin' at four thousand seedlings. And Jimmy comes rushing out of the house. 'Susie, is that you?' Keep in mind there's nobody except her farm for miles. And she says, “Jimmy, sweetie.' And gives him a kiss. Not a huge kiss, but it went for a three-count. That's more than neighborly, right?”

“In civilization, maybe, but we're talkin' West Virginia here ...”

“You're pushin' it, Euie.” He then ignored me and readdressed Mac. “So Jimmy fills her in on the Christmas tree concept and tells her that he has a delivery order for all he can produce. And tells her the ADVANCE. Forty thousand dollars! And I can SEE her eyes light up and her loins clench and … It's like she's a boa constrictor and Jimmy's just a little … Anyway I'm here to get the forty gees into the best yielding short-term money fund you've got before she scams him out of it.”

“That would be Burke and Herbert's Super Cash Account,” I said. “No strings. Two cash draws a month without penalty. Two percent daily compound.”

“You are good for something. Thanks, Euie. I have fiduciary powers, can you do the paper work?” He didn't wait for my yes, he charged ahead. “And the BITCH, after she heard about the money got all cutesy and cuddly and with a good twenty feet of clearance to spare brushed her tits up against him to get to the kitchen. GOD! I said he's planning a website. And she answers me and my girlfriend are planning a website too. We're going to sell cemetary plots in my orchard with all the dead apple trees. We're going to call it grave reservations DOT COM! And Jimmy said that's awesome not getting the joke AT ALL and she looked at me with a take-that-you-predator smile. I'm gonna make a sweet potato pie, Jimmy, she says and left. And he's floating on air! I had to fuck him twice to get his feet back on the ground. It just isn't fair. I'm doing all the work ...”

“And all the fuckin'?” I asked.

“Most of it, but he's so DUMB!!” Richard paused for a breath. “And so cute. That's the tragedy.”

“Not really a tragedy. More of a misfortune, maybe,” Mac suggested. “Except when is a cute ass ever a misfortune?”

“It's more than that,” Richard sighed. “He can be so sweet sometimes. And he does work hard physically. Poor baby gets exhausted from weeding all those rows.”

“You are weeding trees? I don't think my daddy ever did that in our orchards.”

“Really? You don't need to? But he looks so hot in those cut-off overalls. And watchin' him change and shower usually ends up with us in bed.” Richard punched at his phone. “Want to see a picture?”

“Of Jimmy in bed with you?”

“No. Just of Jimmy lookin' hot.”

I said no thanks; but Mac said sure. He looked at one and then paged through a couple more followed by a “WOW! He sure does look hot!” Richard snatched the phone back, glanced at it, and said something about thinking that one was deleted.

“Nothing is ever gone,” I said. “Somewhere, in some archive or other EVERYTHING still exists.”

“The ones of you Rabbit, and the bunnies?” Mac teased.

“Probably, but we had our costumes on.” I thought back to my days of working little kids parties in a rabbit costume. “Maybe there was one or two … once we played a bachelor party. Turned out it was just bachelors, not a bride in sight. So, let's see the one of Jimmy.”

Richard pretended to be mortified by the picture, but it was obvious he was secretly delighted I wanted to see his new best boy. “Oh, alright, here ...” It was a real porn shot: Jimmy, sitting on a porch railing with his legs spread and oblivious to the fact his balls were hanging out of his cutoffs. I couldn't help myself; I paged to Richard's next photo: Jimmy looking very inviting showering outside naked. The next: Jimmy lying in bed asleep with a sheet almost covering him. “Euie! That's rude, paging through somebody's photos.” I paged once more and got just a glimpse before Richard snatched back the phone. It was a pretty nice ass, presumably Jimmy's, being penetrated by whoever was taking the picture.

Looks like you have a lot of deleting to do, Richie,” I teased.

“Don't call me that.”

“Jimmy does.”

“It's cute when he does it. You, on the other hand ...”

“What did I miss?” Hollis wanted to know and then changed his pitch. “The things I DO for this company!” He threw up his hands, sighed, and plopped down in a chair, looking a little rumpled. “Do you know? Can you even imagine how boring sex is when you're doin' it AGAIN with somebody who doesn't give a shit and you don't either. And on top of that there's time pressure to perform! Chicks have it so easy. They just lie back and pretend to enjoy whatever's happening. A guy has to get it up and get it off. That's work!” He sighed again. “At least Penwood paid off Carlos directly this time. Why are you so happy?” he asked, looking at me.


“Richard was just showing us porn shots of his boyfriend,” I said.

“I was not. It was an accident. Euie got hold of my phone.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hollis said clearly not caring. “And next week you'll be shocked to see they were accidently posted to Twitter.”

A grumpy Richard and a grumpy Hollis glared at each other and then they turned to me. “Why are you smiling?”

Mac came to my rescue. “Richard is in love for the first time and is miserable. Hollis has been used and abused again, so he is miserable. But Euie is smiling because Euie is always smiling and that's why we all love him.”

“I'm not in love for the first time!” Richard protested.

“Yes, you are. You have been 'in lust' before, but never love. At least not in the years I've known you, which is about ten. And now Jimmy's attention is not totally focused on you and you're jealous.”

Silence followed. Mac broke it. “And Hollis why are you annoyed by some gratuitous sex, which apparently means nothing to you or anybody else? It's because you think you don't contribute to the company and you feel you have to fuck your way to success which you don't have to do since George is crazy about you.”

More silence. “And Euie smiles even when he has no right to, because that's how Euie is.”

Silence.

“Do you have to tell the truth ALL the time, Mac? Couldn't you just let our illusions ride? Maybe that's why you're alone.”

Ouch. It wasn't me who said it. I was wondering why he thinks I shouldn't smile. There's no sense being down in a world full of possibilities.