Date: Mon, 11 Sep 2006 22:12:58 +0100 From: Joey Tailor Subject: Finding Dad All normal Nifty disclaimers apply. This is not a true story in the events that happened. It is true in the forming of the relationship. It's been awhile since I posted on Nifty. Hope you like it. There is sex mentioned in this story, but it wont be graphic. This is a story of finding love and forming a bond stronger than any other. Father and Son. Written for my `found' dad, Don. I love you. --1-- A piercing ring woke Brad Rivers from his sleep. "Yeah, what?" He spoke with an empty voice after fumbling for the phone's receiver. "Good afternoon Brad." The familiar voice of Tom Ford brought him from his state of sleep. "I have a post for you tonight, you up to it?" Brad sat up in his bed. Working nights for the past couple weekends has changed his normal sleep habits. "Work, sure." He responded, whipping his hand across his face in an attempt to brush the sound of sleep from his voice. "Wait, is it a real job or another night-club gig?" Brads voice grew a little impatient. Since he started working for the agency, the only work offered to Brad was a bouncer position at a few glitsy night clubs in the city. Brad retired from the Army six weeks ago with honors. He came to a quick realization in regard to his pension. The standard military pension payments will not be enough to maintain even a simple life. Civilian life meant he needed a decent job. Steele Private Security Services specialize in discrete private and personal security. Most of their personnel are ex-military and damn good at what they do. Brad certainly has the qualifications for the position he accepted. "Look Brad, you know the score, you're the new guy. That means you get the clubs." Tom drilled back. "If you're not interested..." He paused. "...I have another guy looking for work." The threat fired down the line. Rivers had excellent temper control. No way would he be set off the tracks with a simple threat. His boss knew it too. "Time, place, contact name?" Shot the ex-soldier, ready too jot down the details. "7pm to midnight, 1550 West 2nd Ave., Your contact is me. I will be working this one with you. And, before you ask, yes, you will be paid a full 8 hours for 5 hours work." Tom recited the required information. His voice trailed off, forming a question rather than giving notice. "Working with you. Well this should be a treat." Brad was seeing the lighter side of his superior being placed in the field. "Hey, I don't recognize this address, is it a club Sir?" His eyes read the well-formed printing he scribed moments earlier. Hesitation enveloped Fords voice box. "Ahh, no, its not a club as such. Its my daughters school." He half mumbled in a seemingly embarrassed tone. "What, high-school kids. Oh man are you serious? You want me to help you baby-sit tonight." Brad was almost not able to complete his statement. Laughter was trying to take over his serious thoughts. "Middle-school." Tom mumbled into the phone with an almost inaudible level. The ex-soldier's head cocked to one side. Brad was not sure if he heard right. "What?" He questioned. "Middle-School, OK, She is graduating from middle school and I offered to cover the security detail for them. Look, I'm paying you normal rates, but I'm asking you this as a favor." Ford's voice was toning up now. An authoritative but fair offer was on the table. Brad knew the score, and so far he had not seen any opportunities to build up a pool of favors. This could be a good start. Boss asking you to help look after one of his own, that means something in military circles. "Sure Boss, I'm in." A smile in his voice quickly put John at ease. "Thanks man, I knew being able to count on you would come easy. You moved up a notch." The line clicked, signaling and end to their conversation. --2-- Brad jumped in his pick-up truck and headed off to tonight's posting. 1550 West 2nd Ave. He laughs inwardly as he glances over the address jotted on the yellow sticky note. In his head he worked out the likely age of the kids at a middle-school graduation party. Although he was alone for the drive he spoke aloud. "High-school starts at what? Grade 9, so middle-school graduates grade 8. Kids start at 5 years old, so 8+5=14. I'm going to do security for a group of 14 year olds." "Crap." He shook his head. Brad Arrived at the school gates 27 minutes earlier than requested. He quickly spotted Tom stood beside his car parked in a space very close the entrance. There was not a lot of parking space in the under sized school employee lot. Brad never liked leaving his truck to close to the general public cars when on assignment. The lot edged onto a small grass verge, just enough space to park his truck without encroaching the tree line. Brad parked his truck giving himself a line of sight from the school's gym entrance. Walking toward the door-way he scanned the layout. Decorated mainly with streamers and balloons gave the party a somewhat childish reverence. It was obvious the school's budget was nowhere close to those of the big night clubs that would soon be enticing the same kids to spend their money. Tom and Brad met up at the gym entrance. "Brad, you keep things quiet out here and I will keep the calm inside the school" Barked John. "Oh and this is my wife Sylvia" He pointed to his side. "Nice to meet you Brad, thanks for doing this. I will be inside the gym with the kids, We don't expect any trouble, but a few older kids might try to get in. Only those with a pass are aloud in. We will have a couple of the bigger boys at the door to take care of that. They know to call you if there's any trouble. Just keep an eye on them please." Mrs. Rivers spoke fast, grabbed Brads hand, shook it and disappeared through the school doors with her husband. Kids arrived, mingled and entered the school dance. Maintaining a safe distance Brad watched the entrance. A few times the Boys at the door glanced over to ensure the presence of their protection. Twice his attention caught older kids trying to fake entry. First round, the uninvited kids, 2 boys and a girl realized they were not welcome after seeing Brads large frame being pointed out by the Boys on door-duty. The second group only took their leave after Brad flexed his massive chest muscles and stepped forward. Even the boys at the door felt intimidated and ready to run. By 9pm a few of the less sociable kids started to leave. The dance still in full swing, most of the kids seem to be having a great time. Amongst the rules posted on the doors was one highlighted for all to see #4, No re-entry. It's a rule that brings a smile to Brads face every time he sees it. Most of the clubs use it to serve two purposes. You could control the people you did not want back in if the went out to be sick. If they only left to use their cell phone or something similar, they had to pay the cover charge again. The boys covering the door had changed twice since the dance started. Now only one boy was on duty. There had not been a new-comer for over an hour. That is until now, a few minutes after 9. A small boy wearing a white collar shirt and blue jeans arrived at the entrance. Brad saw the boy on door-duty waving him over while sidestepping to keep the smaller boy from entering. Moving quick, Brad separated the two boys placing his hands on the smaller kids' shoulders and backing him away from the doors. "He doesn't have a pass, and he doesn't even go to this school." The door-boy blurted his displeasure, keeping himself protected behind the man. Brad ushered the boy to the spot he used to watch the entrance. "Do you have a pass?" He quizzed the small boy. The 4 foot 6 inch boy showed no fear of Brads muscled frame towering before him. "Man, I just need to get in for a minute." "DO you have a pass?" The words barked out with an authority the boy had never heard. Shaken, but not frightened buy the tone, he replied. "No sir, I don't, but..." The child's words cut short. "Sorry son, no pass, no entry. Its the rules." Brad put his hand up, palm facing the boy. A solemn look broke across the boys face. Discouragement filled his eyes. He looked to the towering well-dressed man in-front of him. On this rare occasion the child found himself not knowing how to manipulate a man to get what he needed. He has a soft spot for boys. Memories of his own youth being left out often haunted him, stirring a feeling of guilt towards the boy. An inward drive to abide by the rules over rode all guilt and he stood his ground. "I'm Chris." The boy reached out his hand. He knew manners went a long way in getting anything you truly wanted. Brad's hand turned and clasped over Chris' cementing the formal greeting. "Brad, Brad Rivers." His upper lip lifted with pleasure seeing the boy was accepting to his position. With a firm grip and stiff shake Chris ended their meeting. "Sorry Mr. Rivers, I'll take off Sir." With words spoken Chris did just that. He turned and walked off, out of sight. Brad felt elated with himself for the way he handled the situation. The rest of the evening he had a proud smile on his face and stood just a little taller. The music stopped at 11:30 sharp. Seconds later a mass exodus of young teens emerged from the school doors. Shouts and hoots filled the quiet evening air as the teens regrouped and found their way off the premises. Mrs. Ford followed quickly behind and be-lined for Brad. She handed Brad a sizable bag containing an assortment of teen type party treats. "I though you might be a little hungry Brad." Sylvia took her leave before Brad could even utter a simple thank you. Happy for the offering, Brad took the bag back to his truck for safe keeping. He returned to his post, continuing his duty until Tom Ford came out of from the gym doors with the school caretaker. The scruffy, aged man chained and pad-locked the doors. Tom thanked Brad for helping, gave him the rest of the night off to do with as he pleased. Brad was now looking forward to getting home for a hot shower and a relatively early night. --3-- Brad passed a 7-11 on his right, turning north onto Fort Harrison. He bought the truck 18 months before he retired from the 28th Infantry. The last few years in the army were good to Brad. An over-seas post did not come his way. A few of his friends had told him how much paperwork it took to bring a vehicle back to the US. Red and Blue lights flashed in his side view mirrors. A yelp from the police car's siren broke the relative calm of the late evening air. He pulled the truck to the curb and shuts off the engine. Before he got the driver's window all the way down, Brad noticed the presence of the peering police officer. "Drivers license and proof of insurance sir." Displeasure droned from the cop's voice. Brad took the documents from above the sun visor and handed them to the cop. He knew better than to question the authority of his position and waited on the man in blue to speak. "Do you know how dangerous it can be to allow passengers to ride in the back of your truck Sir?" The cop quizzed Brad while still checking the papers. All seemed to be in order as far as he could tell. Brad was not sure where this line of questioning was going. Just as he was about to speak, a small voice sprang. "Its my fault officer, I love to ride in the back of my dads truck." Brad just about broke his neck turning his head so fast trying to see who was speaking. "Did you ever get to ride in the back of your dads truck Officer Pendleton?" Chris knew using a persons name is a great ice breaker, even if read from a name pin. The cop smiled and lifted his gaze to the boy perched on the side of the truck bed. "Yes, I sure did many times." His tone of voice had eased with the memories of great days-gone-by. "Look, for tonight you can ride up front with your Dad." Officer Pendleton gestured to the unoccupied passenger seat. "Yes sir." Snapped Chris as he jumped from the back of the truck and hugged the cop's thick frame. He ran around to the far side of the truck. Once in his seat he buckled up securely for the ride. Brad was in shock. For the life of him he had no idea what was transpiring. He just sat there and let the actions unfold in their own time. Officer Pendleton handed Brad back his papers. "Cute kid you have there Mr. Rivers, keep him safe, in the front." An emphasis placed on, `in the front.' Brad returned the papers to the sun visor. "Yes Sir." He mumbled as the cop walked back to his car. Closing the Window, Brad glanced to Chris now sitting in the passenger seat. The boy was obviously so very happy. A Cheshire cat could not have grinned more radiantly. "Sorry Dad, I hope your not mad at me or anything." Chris could feel something in the air between them. He felt he may have gone to far this time. Being confronted with a cop while trying to find somewhere to stay was way beyond his normal risk level. Rivers kept his composure. "Chris, I'm not your Dad." He spoke the words at rather than to the boy sat in his truck. "Why were you in the back of my truck?" His right eye pierced the boy a foot away from his right hip. Chris took a deep breath before speaking. "I said I'm sorry Dad." He paused seeing Brads eyes roll into his head. "I'll make it up I promise I wont be any trouble." The position he was in would have any other child looking down at their shoes. Not Chris, he turned his entire body to face the man and looked right at him. "I just need somewhere to stay for the weekend, please Dad." His beautiful boy eyes glowed from the passing street lights. "Tell me your story Chris." "And where can I take you?" Brad was starting to feel a little more relaxed now they had driven away. "You can take me home." Sighed Chris. He was far from giving in to resolve. The experienced boy had a few more cards to play. "You don't care about my story, so why ask?" The boy chanced the waters and threw his hook to test the waters. He needed Brad to take the bait if he had any hope at this guy. Brad had taken a few classes in conversational skills. He saw the invitation. Thinking better of it, he avoided the hook and went for the safe question. "So, where is home then?" He had no realization the kid loaded both remarks. If he picked up on either angle he was going down the same path. "Whatever it says on your drivers license Dad." Chris smiled harder. The bait snagged its prey. "Come on kid, what's your game?" Frustration popped in Brads voice. He could have slapped himself. He knew the errors he made even before he finished the words. "Look Dad, honestly, I'm not a threat." "I just need a place to stay." Chris knew how to use his body language as effectively as words. He stopped Chris from responding. "Every Friday my Mom gives me the same speech." `I looked after you all week, it's Friday night and I don't want to see your ass until Monday morning. Now FUCK OFF.' Chris recited the speech verbatim to the almost broken man. "Please Dad, can I stay with you?" Chris moved his hand over to Brad giving a gentle touch. The boy-lover in Brad was going crazy, how could he not look after this nice little guy for the weekend. It was far too late to put him out now. Crazy thoughts jumped around his mind. "I only have a one bedroom apartment." That seemed a logical excuse for him to say no. "I only need one bed." Rebutted the confident kid knowing he already had a yes. A strange new feeling had started to grow in him. A feeling he was having difficulties trying to work out in his own way. The pair looked at each other as they pulled up to a drive-in window of a fast food chain. "You don't have to buy me anything, just a place to stay would be great." The boy was being honest. All he wanted was that. He was use to going without food on the weekends, but knew he could be at risk if he did not have protection from the lonely nights. "And just what kind of Dad would I be if I didn't feed my favorite son?" Brad meant every word he said. Many times he had wished or dreamed of having a son. He was playing the boy's game and feeling proud to say the words Dad and Son. They drove off with their order, both feeling different from the experience. Brad was feeling personal fulfillment. Chris could feel that strange new sensations grow stronger. Entering the small apartment, Brad apologized for the size and lack of furniture. He had planned to spruce it up a little at a time. "This is great compare to my Moms place." The boy felt great pleasure with what he saw. The living room contained only a couch, TV and stereo. As the boy took his own tour, he found a big bed filling the small bedroom. The bathroom and kitchen were both very standard apartment issues. Unlike his weekday home, Chris noticed a very well kept and tidy apartment. "OK what's the score." Chris knew it was best to get business sorted up front. Brad looked over to the cute boy as he walked back into the living room. "Not sure I follow?" Brad was just a little put down when Chris did not finish his sentence with Dad. Chris felt that new tickle again. "You know, for me staying here." "Sex." His eyes opened wide at the end of the statement. This comment floored the man. Sex, he had not even though about Chris with sex, until now that is. He became very interested in Chris' body. He is a boy-lover after all. He had not had sex with a boy since he was one himself. "If you want, but can you be gentle with me?" His words almost pleaded with the boy. `Holy shit.' The 10 year old thought to himself, that's what the feeling is. He was falling in love with a Father figure while hitting on the guy for a place to stay. They sat and ate their food from the paper bags. There was not much on TV. Brad did not really care what was on the tube. He spent the time listening to Chris tell his story. The boy finally had someone that cared enough to listen and not just dive into his pants. The night came to an end and the pair went off to sleep in the same bed. Each took a shower and hopped into bed. Brad jumped in his side wearing his boxers. Chris felt love pouring into the room. He also wanted the sex that came with the weekend adventures. Seeing the ex-soldier's body as he got in bed, Chris knew the sex was going to be fantastic. That night the sex was fairly tame, a lot of cuddles and learning each other's body. After sucking their new partners cock to mind blowing orgasms (Chris' was dry) the Father and son pair fell to sleep in each others arms. The sun rose early Saturday morning, its powerful rays brining the quiet room to a warm glow. Chris woke up first. He watched his new lover sleeping on his back before he felt his full bladder aching for release. After tended to his own bathroom duties trying hard not to wake Brad, Chris went to the kitchen to start breakfast. Fresh coffee had just started dripping when the phone rang. "Hello." Chris said softly not wanting to make noise. "Brad, is that you?" Tom Ford asked. "No, Dads still sleeping, he worked last night." The boy knew when and how to play the game. Tom was a little shocked to learn Brad had a son. "What's your name?" He quizzically asked the young boy. "Chris." He replied, matter of fact. "Should I wake Dad for you Sir?" "No, no boy, that's OK, just tell him I have good news for him later." Ford was pleased to hear the boy had learned to use his manners as well as his Father. "And whom shall I say called Sir?" Both parties knew that was the icing on the cake. "Tom, tell him Tom called." The line went dead. Chris told Brad about the early call over a light breakfast and smooth cup of coffee. As it turned out, Ford was calling to tell Brad he was assigning him to a week-day post. No more night clubs. Brad and Chris enjoyed a wonderful weekend together. They spent time in the park playing ball. A few nice meals eaten together as Father and Son helped cement their new friendship and trust. Each took time to tell the other a few key points about who they are and what makes them tick. The evenings were full of great sex and even better cuddles. Monday morning came way to fast. Brad had to get to the office to pick up his new assignment. They both jumped in the truck and headed to Chris' place. Chris opened his door, not quite ready to see a great weekend come to a sudden close. Brad grabbed him by the arm and asked him to close it for a moment. Looking into Brads eyes, Chris new leaving this man was going to hurt very much. Brad slipped an envelope in the boy's hand. "These are my work, home and cell phone numbers." "A list of personal information about me, and I would like you to have a similar list of info ready for me on Friday." "Friday?" Chris felt the pains of shock from what he was hearing. "Isn't that the deal, Mom gets you weekday and I get you from Friday?" Brad was hoping Chris had not just used him for one single weekend of sex. "Sweet, thanks Dad." Chris' elated eyes widened. "Friday, I get off school at 3:45." The boy jumped from the truck and ran to the house. Passing by the living room, Chris stopped in his happy tracks. "Who was that?" His almost sober Mother demanded to know. "Dah, It was my Dad." "Where else would I have been." Chris knew just the tone to use with his Mom. The alcoholic never really had a grasp on reality. There was no way she could even have remembered who Chris' Father was. The booze had long since washed away most of her memories. She took Chris at face value on everything he said. To her, Chris' Father was the man behind the wheel of the truck that just pulled away.