Date: Sat, 14 Oct 2006 18:28:12 -0700 (PDT) From: T. Chase McPhee Subject: NATURE COUNTRY 28 The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons, in towns, cities, countries, nor governmental areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most state and countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such. % Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection. NATURE COUNTRY 28 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee % "Pardon me?" Matty fell off Chad's lap, skiing right down his legs, as his twenty year old partner stood. "Ahem! Yeah, uh... come in, Marco." "I hope I'm not.... you two are gay?" Getting up off his ass, dusting himself off, planing down the front of his dress shirt, as if trying to get all the wrinkles out, Matty says, "Um, what does it look like to you?" Marco, holding a sheet of paper, allows himself to venture into Chad's office. Smiling, he replies, "Stupid question." Then, shrugging his shoulders, he forthrightly puts it, "I am too!" All remained silent. "Um, that your application?" Chad asks. "Uh, no. I didn't fill it out yet. Um, Andy asked me if I wouldn't mind doing the battery inventory. I hope I did it right?" With the seventeen year old Italian teen, standing next to Chad, Matty eavesdrops, hunched over both of their shoulders. "Looks right. Wow! We really took a killing today!" Not paying much attention, Marco became incessantly attractive to the head, lurking between himself and Chad. Giving off a strong manscent, the teen wanted to turn his head a wee bit more. Licking his lips, he looked at Matty's day old stubble. He never kissed a guy before and yearned to do so. Suddenly, Matty switched his head to the right, when Chad posed a question to Marco. Of course, the Italian teen wasn't paying attention. "Oops!" Backing off, Marco stood there, red-faced, his skin above the neck a decidedly different shade than the rest of him. "I take it you haven't been paying attention," Chad inquired of the totally embarrassed youth. "Um, yeah I have," he lied. "Liar," Matty scolded, grinning. Chad lighted up his face with the same amount of grinning. As if contaminated with the same giddyness, Marco followed suit. Scratching his head, he told them, "Okay. So I wasn't paying attention." Rather than go into the known fact that Matty's lips almost aligned with Marco's, Chad went on to inform him, "I'm making it part of your job to monitor the battery rack." "Do you mean I've actually got the job?" "I thought you knew that before?" "I wasn't sure. Wow! I'm going to be working around....." Most likely it had been his crotch that spoke for him, when seventeen year old shouted for glee. Chad and Matty waited for the complete sentence. It wasn't coming. "Never mind." "No, go ahead and say it," Matty replied. "Nah. That's okay." Another embarrassing smile adorned Marco's face. "Sure. Okay. What I was going to say is... I think it's cool I'm going to be working for two gay bosses. Y'know I've never worked around guys, knowing they are gay." "Let me ask you something?" "Sure, Chad... I mean Mr. Barr." "Chad is fine. Marco, are you `out' to anyone?" He rolled his tongue around in his mouth. "Um. No. Matter of fact, I only yesterday thought about being gay." Even though Marco seemed dead serious, the way he said it - cute - made the bosses giggle. "Well, congratulations, Marco." "You're not going to tell anyone, are you?" "Our lips are sealed." "Thanks." Matty asks, "I suppose that would have been your first kiss, eh Marco?" He grinned. "Wow! How did you..." he gulped, then added, "know?" "Well, I wondered why else you would be breathing down my neck!" "You knew?" Chad informed Marco, joking of course, "You've got to watch out for Matty. He can be very sneaky!" "Am not! Chad, why are you filling this boy's head with such lies?" "That's okay," Marco informs both, "you can be sneaky. I think you guys are fun to work for." "Oh," Matty comes back with a get-even tactic, "wait til Chad here gets the belt out!" "YiKeS!" Little did Chad and Matty realize the strict manner in which Marco's father instilled disciplinary standards, kept them in sync with the mannerly means in which they acted. The two adult's humor subsided quickly, when they noted the sincerity of Marco's yelp. "I'm sorry if I said something difficult for you to... um digest, Marco," Matty apologized. "No problem. I guess I should be thankful I didn't get it as much as my brothers." Chad wasn't sure if Marco should be provoked into anymore speaking out about his homelife. Plus, it was getting late. One more question did remain on the tip of his tongue. Perhaps he'd lose some sleep over it, if he didn't gain an answer. "Marco?" "Yes?" "Do you think your father would have a problem with knowing you are gay?" His mouth formed a neat little `o', as he swished his tongue around in his mouth, thinking about Chad's question. "Um, I... I don't think he would be too happy. You see, my brother, Lenny, brought it up he had a gay friend at school and my father more or less told him he should stay away from him. No, sorry. More precise, the impression I got was along the lines of a `warning'. No, I'd say dad would he be kind of pissed, if he knew of my brother or any of us hanging with gay friends" Then, in a much more serious tone, "Forget about me even mentioning I'm gay!" Chad, not speaking for Matty, but sensed the same feeling, thought Marco delivered a pretty strong answer. "Don't worry Marco," Chad handed him the inventory, "like I said. Your secret is safe with us. Now c'mon, I'll show you how to enter this into the computer." "For real? You're going to teach me something about computers?" "Don't you learn about them in school?" Matty asked. It opened up the conversation, detailing Marco's high school life, being a Senior, the small school he attended, his interest in business, sports, the arts, a wide variety of things. Mostly, the two managers detected the gem, adding Marco to their staff. % "Ready for that dinner, Neil?" "How's the boy doing?" "Pretty well bruised up. It'll take awhile to feel himself again, Maria reports." "'Maria'. Is that what you call her?" Angelo wanted to share more. "C'mon. Let's get scrubbed up. I'll tell you over dinner." It didn't take long, to report to their lockers, grab their jackets and head out for the evening. "Oh by the way, Angelo, I wanted to thank you for the ride." "No problem. That's what I'm here for." "You're been a good friend to me." His right hand leaving the steering wheel, placing it on Neil's, he tenderly says, "I could be more than a friend to you, Neil?" "Thanks, but I don't think I'm ready for a relationship." Angelo took the hint, with a grain of salt, with the knowledge that everybody isn't meant to feel the same way, as the other guy. Replacing his hand on the wheel, he acknowledged Neil's honesty, thinking that someday he'd come to grips with who he really is, wanting to seek out a man to share his life with, at his own disgression. "How about Birdy's?" "Never been in there." "Oh man, you're missing out. Best coffee in all of the region!" "That a fact?" "After you've been in a town awhile, you'll agree there's no place finer, for a home cooked meal. Especially since Michael hired a new cook." "Michael?" "Yeah. The owner, Michael Byrd. Nice guy. Gay, handsome. Known him all my life. Yup, a real dreamboat!" "How come you haven't gone after him?" Shrugging his shoulders, the twenty-eight year old driver replies, "Probably because he's older than me?" "I don't see anything wrong with a younger guy liking an older guy. Age should not be in the choosing." "Okay. Let me level with you Neil. When I wanted Birdy, he had a guy on the side. When he was free, I had a guy. It kind of became a thing with us." "So, he doesn't have a guy now?" "Not to my knowledge. Some guy from a magazine blew into town one day, charmed him. Yeah, I think Birdy had some feeling for him, but got the rug pulled out from under him." "Oh? How's that go?" "The hard way. The same day he met the guy, he comes waltzing in off of the street, with some other guy hanging on his arm." Neil shakes his head. "That's why I....." Dead silence filled the car, as Angelo pulled in to the parking lot, killing the engine. "Like I said, Neil," his hand going to co-worker, "I'm here to listen, anytime. No strings attached." "Thanks for being a friend, Angelo." "That's what friends are for!" As they exited the older model car, Angelo joked about the Dionne Warwick, Elton John, Stevie Wonder classic, singing a few bars. It set Neil into a more jovial mood, informing Angelo he put the song to shame. "Well, look what the cat dragged in!" "Long time, no see," Angelo commented to Michael Byrd, giving him a brotherly hug. "And who's this stud?" "My `friend'," Angelo enunciated, so as to distinguish from `love interest', "Neil van der Beck, meet Michael Byrd, owner of the greasiest spoon in town!" "You'll pay for that Angelo!" Michael proceeded to wrap his arm around the five foot, nine inch tall man's neck, giving him a noogie! Angelo's twenty-seven year old friend couldn't help but laugh at the two. "Birdy you idiot!" Sitting at a table behind them, their shenanigans upset a cup of coffee, nearing the lips of one of their patrons. "Oops! Sorry there George!" "Yeah, yeah... if I hadn't wrastled with ya, beating the pants off of ya when I was sixteen, I'd be mad at ya!" The local had a tale to tell. It kind of grabbed Angelo's interest. "Don't pay him no mind, Neil. Whatever he says, didn't happen the way he says it!" Michael protested. Michael left Angelo sitting there, with the lone customer, as he went to tend to other business. However, the owner kept his childhood friend in check, the whole way back to the kitchen. Neil took the initiative to join the party of two. Being more on the shy side, the blonde let Angelo handle the majority of the conversation. Soon Michael came out, with two beers nestled in his arm, a bowl of spaghetti in each hand. "Here we go!" Angelo says, "We didn't order this." "When it's on the house, you take what you get and like it!" "That's my boy Michael... hee hee... always being gennyrous!" The older man at the table told all. "Yeah, that's nice. George, be a sweetie and go over there and pluck a coupla napkins outta the bin for them?" "What's in it for me?" "I'll let you kiss my ass!" In the immediate area, the cafe erupted with laughter, including Angelo, stating, "That's Birdy!" Neil smiled. Placing each plate in front of the two, along with a bottle of beer. Michael stated, "Enjoy!" "Here ya go boys," the older man sat down. Sitting there, Neil began to wind the spaghetti up in his fork. Then he hesitated, looking around the table. "Whatcha missing there, boy?" "A spoon?" After George offered to get one, both he and Angelo watched, as Neil dove the forkful of spaghetti into the spoon and started it to spinning, as if a carousel. "Fancy! I done see that on TV once. Shows ya got manners!" Angelo's evil side kicked in, seeing a good chance at `dig'. "At least he's got some!" "You tryin' to tell me something', boy?" "Cool your jets gramps! I didn't mean anything by it!" Both exchanged a look, knowing it to be a joking manner. Neil sat there, his carousel running out of steam. "It's a joke, Neil! We know we're calling each other's bluff," Angelo states. "I was?" George carries the joke further. For a minute there, Angelo actually thought George was serious. "Oh shit! I thought you were serious, George!" "I know!" They both cackled. Neil smiled once again. He then lost all interest of the two busting on each other, plus the spaghetti, as it slowly unwound, falling back in the bowl. First, it became George, noticing Neil's attention shifting from their conversation, then kicking Angelo under the table, to let him know. "What?" Angelo asks George, after the toe of his foot careens into his own. A nod, from George, keys him in. "Who's that hot stud?" "You never met him?" "Nope," Angelo states. Neil is still entranced with the young guy in the white dress shirt, yawning, pushing his hair back. "Doc Robert's nephew." "Shrink at the hospital?" George scolds him, "Don't let Doc ever hear you call him that!" "Oh, sorry," Angelo replies, as if Roberts is sitting amoungst them. George interrupts, Neil, who's twirl his spaghetti, around and around, but not making any headway towards consuming it, "Ya better quit that boy, before ya make that there spaghetti dizzy!" Angelo laughed his ass off, calling attention to the table. Michael, returns momentarily to suggest, "If you guys don't stop having so much fun, I'm going to have to throw you out!" He goes along his merry way, clearing a saucer and cup, a finished plate, from the front of a patron. "So, who's his nephew?" "Um, lemme see," George rubs the grizzle on his face, "I think his name is..." Then, spotting Michael, yells, "Hey, Birdy, get your ass over.... oh, there you are...." "Geesh, George! I'm right here." "I see you're here. Hey, what's the Robert's kid's name?" That drew Neil's focus back into the triangular conversation real quick. "He's too old for you George, besides, I saw him first!" "I wasn't lookin' for myself. Besides, the kid's too young for both of us!" As if deju vu, Michael states, "Doesn't matter if a guy is younger or older than the other guy. It's what's in here that counts." Michael holds a fork up to his chest, signifying where his heart is. "Hmm... that what they mean by `eating your heart out'?" George cracked up at his own joke, but the laughter became overly contagious. People laughed at the older man, thinking his laugh was funny! Too obvious, Neil sat there, his attention still geared to Michael, wanting to here from his lips, the name of Dr. Roberts' nephew's name. "Zach! Now don't bother me no more, George!" "Oh, contrare, Birdy... My pleasure!" He laughed again, causing a wave of laughter once more. Michael sighed, walking back to the kitchen. "Excuse me, I think I have to go to the jon." In all the commotion, Zach slipped out of view. Reporting to the two stall lavatory, Neil, without drawing attention, tried listening for sounds of a human presence. The atmosphere lay as dead as a morgue. However, something irked Neil. For the first time in his whole life, he found his hand on his cock and it's not for the fact he had to take a leak. % "Haa, ha ha ha ha...you got the head on backwards!" "That's what the directions said to do." Poor Philip, held up the model of the human man, minus the clothes, skin and other stuff which clings to bones. The straight back, hung down, under the plastic figure's chin. "Let me take a look." Aidan snatches the black and white paper away. "No, no, no. It says attach K to L. You have the neck on backwards." "Oooooooh," Philip replies, "so that's why the head only sets on it one way." Aidan rolled his eyes. "Let's hurry. We can still fix it before the glue dries." "What about your boat?" "It's not a boat. It's a ship, Phil." "What's the difference?" "A boat is small. This is a lot bigger." Philip runs over to the shelf, returning with a model of a VW bug. "Your ship is lots smaller than this." Setting the car next to the model of the 38" Ashville-Tacoma patrol frigate, Philip's finger, lined up paparallel with his thumb, pointing out the less than one inch difference. "Hmmm... I wonder how come that is?" Aidan asked, scratching his head. "Hi guys!" Seth announces, entering the room. "Denis says you're up here." "No, dah," Aidan points out. "Heeeeeeey! Can we help?" Diego asks, seeing the models stretching out on the desk. "What's this?" "Oh," Aidan fills Seth in, "Phil glued the head on backwards." "Yeah, we tried to take it off and glue it on frontwards, but the glue dried." "Crooked." "We know," Aidan informed the ten year old. Diego notices, "I think something's missing." "What?" Philip asks. "His peenee thingee." "His what?" Aidan barks out. "You know," Diego spreads his legs a little and points to his boy-crotch. "You don't have it anymore when you die," Aidan informs them. "What happens to it?" Shrugging, the reply comes, "It dries up and becomes dirt." "Yeah," Philip tells them, "You never been to a funeral?" "Sure," Seth acknowledges them, "But the stiff's got clothes on. You can't see his cock!" Diego looked up to his adoptive brother, as to how `learned' he was. "A guy's cock doesn't have bones in it," Aidan rephrases his original assumption. "I wonder how come it gets big when I gotta pee?" Seth handles Diego's quesiton, "Because ya get so full of pee, it stretches it out. Didn'ja ever have to go to the jon so bad, ya felt like bustin'?" "Plenty of times." Aidan and Philip took it all in, Seth seemingly with a lot of knowledge. "Well if you don't get to the jon on time, the hole on the top can't hold it and like a dam, it busts!" "Wow! I never thought of it like that," Diego replies. Aidan, thinking it over, adds, "I guess that's what happens to babies." "Yeah, they don't know how to use a potty, so they shoot their pee out into a diaper." Philip concluded the subject just in time. "Oops!" "That's okay Seth. Like I already said. Phil glued the head on backwards." "Now he don't have no head!" They all laughed, as Seth held the ivory head up, like an olive. Joking, he tossed it to Phil, who passed it on to Diego, as if playing the `hot potato' game. Ending with Aidan catching it, he lifted his leg, heaving it under, back to Seth. "Hey! I got an idea! Let's go outside and play tag football!" Grabbing their jackets, the four tore out of the room, Aidan getting the football from the closet. Passing through the kitchen, Philip yells out, "Hey dads, wanna play football with us?" "Sure, be right there," Barry answered. "You're okay with the food?" As they traveled through the Clark-Barr kitchen, they added their greetings to the others sitting at the kitchen table, whom they recognized, Pastor Jack, Terrence Beethoven, Max and his partner, Berk. "Hey, Terence," Aidan greeted him with a buddy shake. Philip, did the same, adding, "Can you come out and play some football with us, Terry?" "I'd like that..." Before he could add the `but', Philip and Aidan had added their multitudes of `cools'. Terence hated breaking the hearts of the `squirts'. Business, fine, but when it meant doing something of his own pleasure, he came down hard on himself. "Don't you want to play with us?" Aidan asked, when Terence became silent. "Sure I do, but...." Slowly Philip and Aidan's hyped up attitude began to sink. "I'll be out in a sec. I've gotta finish up some stuff here with your dads." It wasn't the real reason, but satisfied the intentions of the squirts. "Cool!" rang out, seconded by another "Cool," as the two bolted for the back door, Diego and Seth tagging along behind them. The table of adults jumped when the screen door banged shut, sounding like a shotgun went off. "That door will be the death of me yet!" Barry comments. "Excuse me," Steve got up, "I better make sure the ball doesn't go through a window?" "Yeah," Barry admitted to the group, "last time the football did `major' damage." Of course they all wondered about Barry's reference. He didn't them in suspense long. "Last time, Chad and Matty played with them, the tip of the football would up in Chad's crotch!" "Oooooooh that's gotta hurt!" Max says, squinting. "Happens all the time at school," Terence, the high school football coach, mentions. "Oh?" "Yeah. No matter how many times I stress to those jocks, to wear the cup, I find out, `the hard way' some numbskull forgets." "I better get going," Steve hustles out the back. The back door makes Barry jump. "He's worse than the kids!" They laugh their asses off at Barry's comment. "Excuse me, but I've gotta make a quick call," Terence gets up, retrieves his cell phone from the small satchel, snapped onto his belt, flipping it open. A minute later, he's back, phone still engaged in the conversation. "Um, mind if I invite an extra mouth over for dinner?" He questions. "Your call," Barry says to Max. "Fine with me. It's only tacos." "Only tacos?" Terence jokes, then talks into the phone, "They're having tacos..." Max cuts off Terence, "I've cut up plenty of fixins'." Cutting off the call, he informs them, "He'll be over in a few minutes." "Um, whom is `he', might I inquire?" Berk asks. Not that he would know anybody, unless they had been pulled over for a speeding ticket. "His name's Gregor." "Steve's new student teacher?" "Yep," Terence replies, a grin launched. "You work fast. He's only been with us a week." "Yeah I know. Gorgeous, isn't he?" Barry just smiles, envisioning Gregor, the epitomy of a Greek god, as he stood in his office, on his first day, six feet, two inches tall, apparently muscled, the dress shirt taut on his bod, blond hair, dark blue eyes.... "Earth to Barry," Max whistled, "you still with us?" Terence laughed. The high school principal wasn't the only one getting drunk over the handsome hunk. As they've walked through the hallways, Terence has constantly heard girls, as well as boys, mention something hot about his looks. Before the week was out, Terence, his gaydar sending messages, in neon, `He's gay!', had to confront him. Before the day was out, the two had made plans to spend Friday night at Mr. Pink's, dancing the night away. "Yes, well I think tacos is fine." With that he got up, adding, "Are we done here?" "Pretty much so," Terence remarked. "Chad says he'll have the food delivered to the church on Thursday. Oh, we'll needs volunteers to unpack it, into the freezers." "What time?" Barry inquires. "Around four." "Sorry. I've got one of those long meetings after school. I doubt I'll be available." "I can help," Berk shyly raises his hand. "Yeah, and me too," Max adds his assistance, with condition, "if I can get out of making dinner?" "Sure," Barry bargains back, placing it in Max's court, "as long as you pick up `take out', on the way home?" "Leave your wallet!" The meeting ends with them all enjoying the humor. % 2B continued... Copyright 2006 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection without prior written permission, by the author.