Out of The Mist

[Kyanimal]

(This is NOT "Public Domain", and may not be copied/republished, in any form, without the author's expressed, written, permission.)

Chapter One of ? ...

“Get in here!”, shushed through the fog, as my right wrist was firmly grabbed, and tugged. I stubbed my toe while stumbling.



“Huh? Ouch!”


“Ssssshhh!”


It had only been maybe 20 minutes ago that I'd woken up on the boat. I'd laid down for a brief nap after working a long summer day on Captain Rob's charter. He'd left me to swab down the deck, and put stuff away, after he'd filleted the fishing party's catch, and bid them farewell. Thankfully, the four middle aged guys had added a nice tip for me when they paid Capt. Rob for their successful trip. That was around 5pm.


Getting everything shipshape, for the next day, took a little more than an hour, or so. When I first started this job that took me at least twice as long. Capt. Rob had been patient in his training,. It was only a few weeks until I'd gotten good at it, and he'd become confident enough to leave me on my own to do it to his exacting specifications.


Normally, I would have gone to “Mother's” to treat myself to a nice dinner, and see who was out and about, before going “home” to Mrs. Neumann's boarding house. However, I'd felt more like stretching out on the cockpit couch, on the port side of the 46' cabin cruiser, under the fly bridge. I'd kicked off my boat shoes, and lay down for just a few minutes.


I woke up to SILENCE! No creaking dock lines. No lapping water. NOTHING! It took me a few groggy moments to realize where I was, and that night had fallen. I swung my feet to the deck as I sat up, ruffling my hair with both hands, as I tried to clear my mind.


I looked out over the open stern, and to starboard. The harbor's surface was strangely glassy smooth. It had chilled a bit when the sun had set. The tendrils of mist, rising into the full moon light, told me that the air was cooler than the water. About 4 feet off the surface everything was perfectly clear. There wasn't even a slight breeze. I was momentarily transfixed by the ghostly beauty.


What time was it? How long had I been dozing? Why was it so QUIET?


There weren't even any sounds from town. That meant it had to be fairly late. Most shops in this little New England tourist trap closed at 10pm, with the bars, and some restaurants, staying open until 1am. However, with the recent “troubles”, the City Council, a majority of which were also members of The Chamber of Commerce, had gotten everyone to agree to shut down by 11pm on full moon/new moon nights.


Though that seemed contrary to robust business, even the bar owners realized it would be much worse if any of their precious tourists disappeared while vacationing, and word of “the troubles” gained further broadcast. It was far better to subdue the possibilities of negative publicity than to have all of the tremendously profitable summer trade dry up entirely. Therefore, without it being officially declared, a pseudo curfew, of sorts, had been agreed upon, on “those” nights.


The first one that went missing, without a trace, was an eighteen year old named Talon Mason. And, yeah, that was his real name, not a nickname. He was a “local”. Both of his parents were teachers, and yearlong residents. Talon was set to graduate from High School in June. He disappeared during the March full moon while walking home after studying at a friend's place. At least that what he had told his parents that he was doing.


There were some “hints” around town that he, and Gabe Collins, were maybe more than just “study buddies”. Both were on the wrestling team, very fit guys, and it had been noted that they spent more time with each other than they did with anyone else.


Just like any other small town, everyone knew everyone else's business, and except for a few gossips, most kept it to themselves. Even so, had there been “something more” going on with those two, around here it still didn't matter much.


This old seaside village has a reputation of being one of the country's “Gay Meccas”. It's location has attracted an almost overwhelming summer population of artists, potters, playwrights, jewelers, and all sorts of other craftsmen cashing in on the summer trade. I'm not saying any of that is “Gay” per se, it's just that the place became known as being tolerant of just about any, and every, one.


I don't know when the town was actually founded, but I do know it dates back to the earliest of Colonial times. It was a small working fishing port long before it became today's mainly tourist destination. It has seen it's up and down times. It's nearby sand dunes, and extensive beaches, are what has sustained its survival all the way up to these modern times. It's “Gay Reputation” is FAR surpassed by its Family Friendly Summer FUN attractiveness, not to mention it's picturesque Historical atmosphere.


The next to disappear was Mike Taylor during the early April new moon. He was in his mid 30's, managed the local hardware store, and lived with his “house mate”, Carl Heathers. Carl had kept dinner on “warm” waiting for Mike to get home after closing the store. When dinner had approached “too well done”, Carl had turned it off, and eventually dinner become cold. Mike was never seen again. Carl was found Cold, of an apparent suicide, just one week later.


April full moon brought about the vanishing of Amy Gates. She, and her “known partner”, Marsha Wells, successful owners of one of the art galleries, had arrived just the day before, to begin setting up inventory, etc. Granted, that was a bit early for most seasonal shop owners, but those two considered that time a “working vacation”, being able to take it slow and easy, after closing their other location in the Florida Keys.


Since they hadn't had time to fully stock groceries, and stuff, Amy had headed off to “Mother's”, which was open year round, to pick up dinner to go. She was the last customer right at closing time. Marsha never did eat anything that night.


By this time, the small local police department saw a pattern emerging with full moon/new moon. And, sure enough, May new moon was the last they saw of their own officer, Hunter Winter.


Hunter had joined the department, as a locally raised former Marine MP, two years ago. Though he had been stationed in several posts around the world, Home was where his heart truly was. His family owned one of the oldest hotels, where they also lived, right across from the town square. However, Hunter, and his “buddy”, Brian Taylor, from Kansas, had bought a good sized house out in the dunes.


Hunter had turned over his squad car keys to his fellow officer, Carey Evans, jumped in his Jeep, and headed on out. His Jeep was found the next day, with the keys still in the ignition, on the bluffs at “Break Point”, several miles in the opposite direction of his and Brian's place.
Hunter was never seen again. Nor was he the last to “Evaporate”.


The local newspaper had reported the mysterious vanishings, but being of limited circulation, especially during “off season”, the stories had not gained much attention beyond the general area, which, come to think about it, was rather amazing in, and of, itself. However, that was also somewhat of a boon to The Chamber of Commerce/City Council which valued, perhaps one might say “Greedily”, it's own interests, as harsh as that may sound. They managed to keep it all mostly “under wraps”.


The local journalists had been coerced, some say with Lots of bucks, to stop reporting such things, even though the pattern continued, and is still continuing. Luckily, if you think of it that way, the ones that were “taken” later, even as “The Season” began, were also locals, or workers, and not any of the freely spending tourists.


Most of those who were the prime components of “The Money Machine” had NO idea of what had been happening around here. And, though the early closing hours, on what they thought were “odd” nights, had some of them wondering, the overall financial windfall was kept throbbing.


Did I mention that those soft, fragile, silvery, mists that I was fascinated with, rising off the becalmed water, were illuminated by the full moon? It suddenly stuck me that I might be in danger!


I'd made it up to, and along, the dock, through the mostly empty (huge) central town parking lot (which was usually full of cars), and turned left along (the very aptly named) Commerce Street. A block later I was passing “The Crown and Anchor Hotel” (Hunter's family place) to my left, and Town Hall Square to my right.


The mist, also rising from the ground, was quickly becoming fog. Though the air was chilly, the cobble stones under my bare feet were still warmish. Yeah, in my haste to get moving, I'd left my shoes on the boat.


I'd thought of staying on the boat for the night, but given the chill, I'd decided to chance the dash for my warm bed at Mrs. Neumann's. And, perhaps it was a good thing that I'd left my shoes on board. I wasn't exactly running, but I was walking quickly, and the cobble stones were a bit slick with moisture. Without my shoes, I was able to move more stealthily, being able to “grab” the slippery stones with my toes and soles, silently padding through the thickening cloud around me.


Though some might call Commerce Street the main drag, there was no way anyone could race along it, at least not in a car. It was a one way, very narrow, Colonial path. Driving down it, especially when the crowds were out, amounted to very carefully letting pedestrians move out or your way in the (perhaps) four feet of space, on either side, between your car doors and the doors of the close set shops lining both sides. Sidewalks, except in front of Town Hall Square, were nonexistent.


A block later, I passed the blacksmith shop, and turned right between it and “The Atlantic House”, which was a big gay bar, and hotel, also known as “The A House”, into what was a walkway/alley that ended in a stairway up to First Street. As I made my way to those stairs, at the back of the blacksmith’s …


“Get in here!”

 

[Autolycus]

Great start Chaz - you have got us guessing and eager for more of this mystery tale!

 

[lakesinclair]

Love the beginning Chaz. You have me wondering what is happening and where this story is headed.
I can now not only look for your story comments on others but can look forward to
more chapters "we hope" from your story.

 

[Craiger]

Eerie and intriguing, Chaz. As I know the fog well, there are areas that you may not want to explore. "Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow knows!" Please continue with the tale......

Craiger

 

[Kyanimal]

Thank You, Guys, for your comments and encouragement! Please forgive my errant proofreader (Me) for the things he's missed.

Chapter 02 of ? …

When people find out I work in a blacksmith shop they usually get a “Huh?” look on their face or go, “Aw! That's interesting.”, thinking they already know what it's about. Both of those reactions are wrong.

This building originally was a blacksmith shop, and then something else, and something else after that, etc., etc., until Dan, a real (modern) blacksmith, bought it under the condition that he would convert it back to it's historic use, sort of.

Yes, there is a real forge, and bellows, at the back of the big open front area, with it's high timber beamed roof, barn wood walls, and planked floor. The place had to be gutted in order to restore it. Most of the wood is far newer than it looks.

To complete the picture, we all work in period attire. Dan, and his son Tim, wear their leather-look Kevlar bib aprons, pants, and steel toed “hob nail” boots. Frank, and I, sport loose fitting “henley” style linen shirts, with matching breeches, and rope for a belt. We're also encouraged to loose the shirts, when it's warm enough, to “impress” the gals and guys.

Dan, and Tim, work the forge, making lots of banging noises while working molten metal into touristy chachkas, and stuff. Frank, and I, deal with the walk-in traffic, telling them stories, and giving them little tours, in the hopes of selling them a nautically themed weather vain, or the like, to hang on their wall back home.

The vast majority of our inventory was made during the off season, but sometimes we'll sell something that they've watched taking shape on the anvil. We'll take custom orders, too, which can be quite interesting at times. I've never known Dan to turn down a request no matter how “weird” it might be. I'll leave those to your imagination.

I'm the manager, and though Dan is the owner, he gives me free reign. He'd much rather just make his hammer sing than deal with all the hassles of running the business. And, it's a mighty successful business at that. With orders from the ship yard up the coast, architects, and other businesses, and “regular” folks, we're kept busy enough to be year round residents. Who would think that blacksmithing would still be in demand today?

In fact, I live on the premises. My modern quarters are behind the overall facade which includes a little Colonial room, complete with a dutch door that leads to the alley/walkway between us and “The A House”. During the day we'll leave the top of the dutch door open so passersby can peek into what looks like a common room from those times. It tends to tweak their curiosity, and encourages them to check us out. It's just another little part of our marketing plan.

I'd tracked our walk-in sales to begin around 10am, build throughout the afternoon, begin to taper off around dinner time, and peter out by 10pm. I'd thought of closing earlier, but during “The Season” every buck counts. So, at 10pm I'd roll the front double barn doors closed, no matter what the moon phase was, as disturbing as that current requirement was.

I'd also been a part in bringing that agreement about. Dan was also aware of the “why”, but I was the one attending the meetings, and knew more of the horrid details than he did. That's why I made sure that he, and Tim, and Frank, left in plenty of time to get to their respective homes on “those” nights.

Maybe it was because I knew it was a full moon, or maybe I was stressed over some other business stuff, or maybe I was wondering why I was still single at 26, or … well … who knows? In any case, I couldn't manage to get to sleep. Something was nagging me. I had a “feeling”.

I rolled out of bed, pulled on my comfy linen breeches, tied my rope belt, and went to check outside. On my way through the little Colonial room, I lit the oil lamp on the table, and turned on the gas flame in the fireplace since there was a bit of a chill.

I was soon leaning on the door frame, one bare foot on the threshold, the other on the ally/walkway cobblestones, my arms wrapped around my chest, and just staring into the fog, enjoying the coolness, the odd quiet, and beauty of the night. Come to think about it, I really shouldn't have been out there.

Was that someone coming toward me? Should I duck back inside? There shouldn't be Anyone out here, including me! I tensed up, but didn't move.

As the figure drew closer, I could see that he was hurrying toward the stairs to First Street. That gave me a clue that he thought he might feel that he was maybe in danger, too. I decided he wasn't a likely threat, even though I couldn't tell who the heck he was. And, since he hadn't paused as he silently approached, I was pretty sure he hadn't seen me, and didn't know that I was there.

Why was I thinking “He”? Was it the gait? Was it the general slim shape? Was it a wish?

As “he” passed, I instinctively reached out and grabbed “his” wrist.

“Get in here!”, I shushed.

 

[rocabar]

OMG! I love this, Chaz. . . I hope that there is more to come! Thanks for sharing your literary talents with us. . .

 

[Craiger]

This could be exciting....two young men, frightened by the fog and full moon, both searching for safety..... Well, you know odd things can happen during such times.... At least I hope so. Thanks, Chaz, anticipating more very soon.

Craiger

 

[Autolycus]

Love the nostalgia - I recall watching the blackmith at work as a kid - sad to say the old forge is now an office. But I digress, this tale is so full of intrigue, can't wait for more!

 

[Kyanimal]

Hey, Buds!

THANK YOU! I can only hope that I might be able to live up to your expectations.

Chapter 03 of ? …

I'd been grabbed, thrown off balance, stumbled, and then nearly tripped, as I was tugged over a wooden threshold. Everything went totally dark as the figure beside me pivoted to close, and latch, the door behind us. I was feeling a bit baffled, and, yes, a little scared. I just stood there as though my feet were glued to the plank flooring. He was still holding my wrist.

I guess what amounted to a blackout curtain was swept aside, and my vision returned to flickering firelight. I felt as though I was stepping back in time as I was led into a Colonial era room that I was familiar with. I hadn't been in it before, but I had seen into it many times.

“What were you doing out there? Are you crazy?”, he said rather sternly as he turned to face me.

I found myself standing toe-to-toe with, and staring up into the green eyes of, David Benicek. He had a look of concern on his handsome face, under those curly black locks of his. He reminded me of the actor Adrian Grenier. I felt my knees buckle slightly, for several reasons.

He must have felt that, because he placed his other hand on my shoulder, and maneuvered me to sit in one of the two chairs at the small table. That brought my line of sight directly in line with his navel, surrounded by tanned abs, and I couldn't help but let my glance travel down his dark treasure trail to a little showing of his pubes peaking out over his rope belt. I looked back up over his rounded pecs, into those green eyes looking down at me, and I think my mouth just fell open. Hopefully I wasn't drooling, too.

“Ollie! Are you all right?”, he soothingly asked, in his silky baritone, as he was now gently holding both my shoulders.

I wasn't sure if I could speak! Was this really happening to Me?


Dave:

The wraith that I'd snagged out of the fog turned out to be Ollie (Oliver) VanHengst. His mid-length blond hair was all ruffled, and his blue eyes seemed to be a little out of focus, as he stared up at me from the chair I'd sat him in. He had one of the cutest faces I'd ever seen. His features made him look younger than his 21 years. Now he was looking a bit stunned. Why had he been out there on “this” night?

We were acquaintances, as were most everyone working in town for the season. Even us locals could relate to the mostly college kids who were helping us pry the tourists' wallets open. Most of us didn't mingle with “The Visitors” after hours. After all, relating to “Them” was considered work.

We did have our own places where we'd socialize, and maybe party a bit, away from the mainstream. One of those central places was the basement of “Mother's”, accessed by an unmarked back door. Well, it wasn't really a “basement” as much as it was a semi-sublevel, given the high water table along the harbor.

It was our own full service restaurant, but even more casual than the main level. It was common to just walk in, spot an empty chair, join a table, and slip into whatever conversation was already in progress. We had our own dedicated staff that would often sit, and chat, too, while still doing their job of seeing we were well fed.

Ollie, and I, had occasionally broken bread together before, but always with others. He came across as a slightly shy/quiet guy, which only added to my attraction to him, which I never let on, or let him know of.

He was about 5'8”/5'9”, with a slim build, which was more lean than lanky. I'd seen him around the dock without his shirt. He definitely had well defined muscles. I guess I'd describe him as generally long and slender, as was quite evident in his hands, fingers, feet, and toes. He had a good summer tan that accentuated the lightness of his hair, and eyes. The sight of him made my back molars water.

I'd never made a move for him, nor ever hinted I might be interested in him. I really had no idea if he might be gay, or not. It was known that he was single, with neither a boy, or girl, friend in town. He was just a pleasantly social, nice, friendly guy that also kind of kept to himself. Everyone liked him.

And, now, here he was in my parlor, with my hands holding him down in a chair! I squelched the feeling of me suddenly being a spider contemplating a fly. I was still too young to be a perv! Right? Maybe?

Well … when I first got him into the light, I saw that he was wearing one of his usual T-shirts with the name of Capt. Rob's boat emblazoned on the front, and back. “What A Catch”. HA! Now how appropriate, or not, was that?

 

[sheep]

Way to go Chaz! I can let you do the work and I'll sit back and read for a change. I think I will like that

 

[Kulindahr]

Some GOP bigots are trying to frame a local pagan outfit by making people vanish on a lunar cycle.

 

[lakesinclair]

Fianlly had a chance to catch up. Love where this is headed and am
looking forward to more chapters. Keep up the good work.

 

[Kyanimal]

THANKS! to Everyone for your kind words, and replies, here in the thread, and elsewhere.

As for this ...

Some GOP bigots are trying to frame a local pagan outfit by making people vanish on a lunar cycle.

You've been cheating by reading ahead, haven't you?



"Out of the Mist"

Chapter 04 of ? …

Ollie:

“Um … I fell asleep on the boat, lost track of time, and since it got chilly, I thought I'd better head home.”, I stammered.

“Do you know what kind of risk you were taking?”, Dave asked quietly.

“Well, it certainly crossed my mind when you grabbed me!”, I said with a weak smile.

“Damn, he's adorable!”, Dave thought, but didn't voice it.

“You're lucky it was just me that caught you!”, Dave smiled. “Are you O.K.?”

I nodded.

“Here, at least let me look at that foot.”, Dave said as he pulled the other chair in front of me, sat down, spread his knees apart, and held a hand out.

I raised my foot, Dave took my heel in his hand, and positioned the ball of my foot on the edge of his chair making my toes curl forward.

“That big toe is looking a bit red.”, he said. “Sorry about that. Does it hurt?”

“Just a bit.”, I said.

I winced a little as he softly pressed his thumb down on my big toenail, and then joined that thumb with his other one, and applied some light pressure moving out to both sides, and up along the toe.

“There's just a bit of blood pooling there. I want to try to disperse that a little.”, he explained. “Hold on for just a minute.”

Before I realized it, he'd moved my heel onto his chair, and was using both hands to massage the top, and sole, of my slightly injured foot. He'd gently push his thumbs into the middle of the ball of my sole, and then circulate the pressure outward, spreading my toes. Then he'd run his knuckles along my arch, and a thumb along the outer blade, from my little toe to my heel. I'd forgotten I'd even stubbed my toe.

I was in heaven. My entire body relaxed into the wooden chair. All tension that was in me simply went away! My foot flexed forward, and came into contact with his linen covered crotch. Was that his dick I was touching? Did I just feel it twitch?


Dave:

I can't claim to have a foot fetish as much as I'd call it a fascination. I think feet are incredible when it comes to their design and function. I find myself drawn to the visual aspects of their myriad curves and arcs. The way they translate weight while moving us forward, or in any other direction, is absolutely miraculous. Besides, just like our hands, they're the second most sensual parts of us.

Given his general build, Ollie's feet were proportionately long and slender. He also had nice deep arches. The tops of his feet were darkly tanned, which served to set off his well trimmed nails like pearly insets. That also accented his lighter soles. I found myself intrigued by those color contrasts as I let my hands experience the firmness of the underlying smooth layers of muscle, and bone, of his beautiful foot.

My main purpose was to relieve any pain he was experiencing, and get him to relax at the same time. Perhaps I was better at this than I thought because I could see him almost melt into the chair he was in. When his toes touched my crotch, I was surprised to feel my dick twitch. Maybe I've got a foot fetish after all.


Ollie:

Dave smiled at me, patted the top of my foot, kind of tapping my toes further into his crotch (I felt I'd nearly faint), and then he lifted my heel, and set my foot back on the floor. I was kind of hoping he'd ask for the other one, but he didn't. (Darn!)

“I hope that's better.”, he said, as he placed a hand on my knee.

“Yeah! That's MUCH better.”, I smiled, and heard him take a deep breath, which also made his bare chest puff up, and abs contract. I felt my own dick twitch just then, too. What had I been pulled into? Was I still on the boat merely dreaming?

“Look!”, he said, as though I wasn't.

He continued, “You're all damp, and still chilly. I'm not letting you go out there any further tonight. You're staying right here. You don't have a choice, so resistance is futile. Let's get you warmed up, and settled down.”

I just nodded.

He took my hand, and gently pulled me out of the chair.

“Come with me.”, he stated, and guided me toward a door at the back of the room. I gladly followed, with my hand in his.

I didn't know where he was leading me, but I went more than willingly as I took in the vision of the muscles in his shoulders, the way his shoulder blades glided under his skin, the dimples on either side of his lower spine, and the slight view of his butt cheeks, with a hint of crack, as his hips swayed under the linen of his knee length breeches.

This HAS to be a Dream!

 

[Craiger]

And I'm going to have a sleepless night after this cliffhanger...... You are a tease, Chaz! But, what good story doesn't have it's cliffhangers. It's getting much more intense and I can hardly wait to find out what the accommodations Dave is going to give Ollie.
Hurry back, Chaz.

Craiger

 

[Autolycus]

I didn't know where he was leading me, but I went more than willingly as I took in the vision of the muscles in his shoulders, the way his shoulder blades glided under his skin, the dimples on either side of his lower spine, and the slight view of his butt cheeks, with a hint of crack, as his hips swayed under the linen of his knee length breeches.

This HAS to be a Dream!

The very stuff that dreams are made of! This is getting so good!

 

[scream4ever]

So great to see you doing this Chaz! Your comments have always provided me with much motivation to say the least.

I always been a huge fan of mystery/suspense, and I LOVE how you build it up at the beginning. Will Dave and Ollie come across it soon? What will it entail? My mind is racing now please keep writing!!!

 

[DonQuixote]

Chaz,
Thanks for heading me to your literary endeavor! I'm sorry it took me a few days to get here - I just got caught up.

Started out great and it's getting even better/warmer.

You are doing a fantastic job.

 

[Kulindahr]

Interesting style, with the sections labeled with the two names.

This last just makes me want to go to bed and curl up against a young stud, with Bammer on my other side.

 

[lakesinclair]

Finally had a chance to catch up. So many different ways this story
could go. Looking forward to seeing your direction.

 

[Kyanimal]

I have to admit I'm Thrilled, and Pleased, with your replies, and comments, Dear Friends!

I'm also surprised at your positive interest in my ramblings, and appreciate that more than I can put into words.

I only hope that I might be able to continue to deserve your kindness, and thoughtful attention.



“Out of The Mist”

Chapter 05 of ? …

Ollie:

Following Dave through that door was another Time jump, but forward to Now. Light immediately filled the space as soon as he entered. It was kind of eerie in that there was no obvious source. (I'd find out later that it was a rather intricate, indirect, LED system triggered by motion and infrared sensors.)

I was also very surprised to find myself in a mini locker room. There was a central bench between two rows of four full height lockers, eight in all. Dave led me to the far end of the bench.

“I'll explain this later.”, he said. “For now, I want you to leave your clothes here, walk forward into that hallway, and turn left.” With that, he turned left around the lockers, and left me standing there all alone.

I was thinking, “What the … ?” I decided to do what I'd been told, though.

As the middle of five boys, I had no problems with nudity, especially in a locker room. It was familiar surroundings, even though it didn't smell like a typical locker room, and I was by myself. When I headed north, through the open arch to the tiled hall, the light “magically” followed me.

On my right was another open arch to a room I just had to peek into, so I ducked my head in. The light went on in there to reveal two closed toilet stalls, two partitioned urinals, and a counter with four sinks in front of a big long mirror. It was a nice little set up.

To my left was another arch, with a 6” high tiled threshold. As I stepped over that, the tiled room beyond lit up, too. In the center was a column with four massager shower heads, at it's top, aimed toward the room's corners. I also felt a gentle warm breeze waft around me as I chose one of the “back” showers (so I could watch the doorway), and pulled the single control which was already pointing more to the “hot” side.

I braced myself for the expected initial blast of cold water, but it was already a near perfect temperature when it hit me, and it felt SO good. How did it do that?

There was an assortment of body wash, bar soap, shampoo, hair conditioner, even a few loufas, etc., on the pillar's various shelves. After I'd warmed up under the plain spray setting, I sudsed myself down, and rinsed off under a gentle pulse stream. I'd really needed that!

Turning off the water, with no sign of Dave around (Darn It!), I padded back to the bench. Where I'd left my clothes there was now a big fluffy towel, a robe, my wallet, comb, keys, and phone.



Dave:

The temptations going through my mind were nearly killing me! But, I decided I was going to behave myself, and be a “good boy”. (DOH!)

I left Ollie standing there, with that adorable, bemused, look on his cute face, and headed upstairs to get him one of my robes. Perhaps I wasn't being all that “good” as I devilishly chose a knee length one with short sleeves.

As I came back down, I listened for the shower to turn on before moving to the bench. I grabbed his T-shirt and beige “river” shorts. The shorts were a soft nylon, or something similar, with various sized zippered pockets, which I went through and emptied. I was surprised to only find four items. I also noted that the shorts had a mesh inner liner, so that explained the lack of any underwear, as though there needed to be an excuse for that any way. HA!

Behind the east row of lockers was our towel cupboard, and a washer/dryer set. I tossed his shirt, and shorts, into the washer. Being such a small load, it would cycle fairly fast. I grabbed a towel to add to the new pile on the bench.

I ducked back south into what we called “The Cabin”, blew out the oil lamp, clicked off the fire, and forced myself to go back upstairs, to get some food going, instead of “wondering” into the bathroom across from the showers.

I have to admit I did have an ulterior motive for getting him in the shower, and washing his clothes, but it's not what I'm sure you're thinking! I wanted to rid him of the slight fishy smell he had about him from working on the charter boat.

When I came back downstairs the shower was still running, so I just sat on the stairs. I finally heard the shower shut off, and patiently bided my time to allow him to get dried, and robed.

Of course I could have walked in on him, as he was headed back to the bench, all dripping wet, and naked, and such, but I wanted to give him some space to feel comfortable about where he was. I didn't want to obviously push things. I wanted him to trust me. I certainly didn't want this possible “catch” to get away until I'd had a chance to see how our encounter might go, or not. Baby steps can get you to where you'd like to end up being.

When I did go back to the bench, he wasn't there, but the robe and his things still were. I then heard a hair dryer click on, and I found him in front of the bathroom mirror, towel around his waist, air blow drying an arm pit.

What a sight! My eyes were dancing in their sockets as I checked out his back, and the reflection of his front. So much smooth tanned skin, quarter sized brown nipples, tufts of darker blond hair under his arm, which was raised straight up toward the ceiling, and a huge smile on his face as he moved the dryer causing his pit hair to practically wave at me! I'd managed to “walk in on” him after all! I stopped dead in my tracks. I'm sure my mouth sagged open. Now it was me feeling like a deer in headlights. My dick jumped again!

“Calm the fuck down!”, I urgently thought to myself.

“Oh, hey, Dave!”, he said, as he saw my reflection behind him. “This is awesome! Thank You!”

“It's more than that!”, I heard in my head.

“No problem, Buddy!”, I smiled. “Your clothes are in the washer, by the way. They should be ready for the dryer, soon. In fact, they might be done now.”

“Yeah, I was kind of wondering about where they'd gone.”, he grinned.

“Tell you what … I'll go check on that while you finish making yourself beautiful. Then, we'll see about getting some food into you.”

“Making yourself beautiful”? Did I just say that?

It took more effort than I thought it would to turn, and head for the washer. His clothes were done, so I tossed them in the dryer, on low. The machine would sense when everything was dry. I heard the hair dryer flick off. I just stood there, slowly counting to myself, taking some deep breaths, to give him some more private time.

“Um … Dave?”, I heard in just a few moments.

“I'm right here.”, I said, as I stepped around from behind the lockers.

The towel was on the bench. The robe was on him. He must have put his things in the robe's two big pockets. I noted, with more than just passing interest, that he'd wrapped the robe rather loosely about himself. The robe's belt was looped in a single twist, off to one side, right at his waist line. The “V” of the white terry cloth was framing his smooth skin down to just above his navel. He'd combed his hair. There was a slight wave in his blond locks, which were parted in the middle, and framed his forehead with a curl on either side, pointing toward his nearly white eyebrows.

I was momentarily stunned speechless by his wide smile, the light dancing off his white teeth, which he aimed right at me when he saw me. Did he have any idea how powerful that particular “weapon” was that he possessed, not to mention those deep blue eyes, like lasers firing, sparkling, right into my heart, which I swear just skipped a beat, or two?

“O.K., then!”, I stammered. “Follow me, Stud.”, I muttered, as I headed around the west locker bank, and toward the stairs leading up to my private lair.

Did I just call him “Stud”? He's turned me into a drooling idiot!