Date: Fri, 21 Apr 2006 09:40:58 -0700 (PDT) From: T. Chase McPhee Subject: Nature Country 05 The following story is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblance to real people is entirely coincidental in nature, and is not meant to accurately depict, nor reflect upon persons in towns, cities, or governmental areas, in 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. This is fiction. Do not forget, in real life, to think about 'sexual safety matter'; got condom? "Nature Country" 05 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee % "And remember, Chris, don't go asking Andy anything `gay'." "Oh, I won't, Chad. Thanks for letting me know he's straight." Reaching the veggie area of Barr's & Bridges, the two approach Andy, hard at work. "Andy, this here is Christian." "Zoutendijk," Christian has now gotten into the habit of adding, on Chad's behalf. "Nice to meet you," Andy replies, wiping the coating of orange juice, from his palm, on his apron before greeting him properly. Chad adds, "Andy is our assistant manager-in-training." "Lots of responsibility," Christian says, then feels like an idiot, staring at the mop. "Um, Andy, show Christian around." "Okay. I'll take him and show him the liquor stock." "But I've already seen it," Christian says. "Um, Andy," Chad says, "have Chris follow you around. You know, show him the ropes?" "Sure, no problem, Mr. Barr." Andy figures Chad means the layout of the store. "Right after I finish cleaning this up." "I can help." "No. That's okay. I wouldn't want you messing up that suit." So, Christian stood there, watching Andy clean up. As he did, a coupla times he had the opportunity to see beyond the apron Andy wore. He had already memorized the outer-viewed facts; around his own age, a little taller than his six feet, one inch height, kind of on the lanky side, black hair. As he peers down, from above Andy crouching down to wipe up some orange juice, he looks down his shirt, seeing a full expanse of black hair covering his chest. When Andy gets up suddenly, he accidentally bops Christian in the chin. "Whoooa!" Christian says, falling backwards. "Gotcha! You alright?" Andy says. With quickened reflexes, Andy has balled up the middle of Christian's shirt, at stomach level, in his fisted hand. "Hey, sorry about that," He apologized to Christian, letting go. "That's okay," looking behind himself, "I think you saved me from destroying the pyramid of Corn Flakes!" Andy figured out already why Christian was hovering over him, but alluded to, "Y'know, when Mr. Barr said follow me around, he didn't mean you had to get `that' close." Christian made up a wild tale, "Okay. I just wanted to see how one cleans up a messy spill like sticky orange juice." "Yeah, okay," Andy replies, not buying it, but making it seem like he did. "And oh, sorry for wrinkling up the threads." Setting about to spread his hand over the wrinkles, Christian swipes past his crotch. He hopes Andy didn't notice the slight bulge. % "Aunt Bernice, we don't see you much anymore." "Well, I'm supposin' it's because you boys are getting older and are all wrapped up in school and... just when is that church outting again?" Diego keys her in, as he licks the Zebra Cake from the back of his spoon, "I think it's this next week's weekend, I think." Adrian adds, "What Diego means is it's a week from this weekend." "Yeah, that's it," Diego corrects himself. "I'm going to miss Scruffy," Philip says, glumly. He speaks to the pup in a cutesy voice, "Are you going to miss us, Scruffy?" Scruffy replied, "Woof!" "Hey guys, he understands me!" Philip tells them excitedly. "No way. Ask him another question," Aidan dares him. "Okay... ummmmm, how old is a one year old, Scruffy?" He replies, "Woof - woof!" Scruffy's reply dashes their hopes of a dog understanding human talk. "Oh well!" "That's because," Bernice butts in, "you've gotta talk on `their' level!" The three boys, ten, eleven and twelve years old, watch `Aunt' Bernice get down on all fours, scrunch her back up, like a cat and move her face in front of Scruffy's and Taco's faces. "Ruff... ruff-ruff...Zzzzz-ruffffff-ruff!" She lets out. The boys giggle, as they hear the two puppies bark back, Scruffy licking her on the nose. "What did you ask them?" Quickly, Bernice makes up the question, "I asked them if they wanted some Zebra Cake?" "And?" the three amigos reply. "Nope! Says it'll give them colliwobbles. Nope. These dogs here sure are smart ones, I tell you. Maybe even smarter than some little boys I know!" "Aunt Bernice?" Diego asks. "What darlin'?" "Whatsa colliwobble?" Philip and Aidan watch her explain it, in detail, using gestures, "Y'see, when you eat something your tummy doesn't like, these little men, deep down inside start kicking up a raucous, bangin' on the insides of your belly, making it feel like you got colliwobbles inside!" Dr. Scalia couldn't explain the medical fact any planer. "Only one way to get rid or `em." Now this part piqued Philip's and Aidan's interest. They knew what colliwobbles were, but not how to get rid of them. "There's this pink stuff that you drink. Wipes them right out." "I hope I never get the colliwobbles," Diego says, not liking the remedy, which he has sampled before. % "Hey, Chad, what's this about us hiring Christian?" "Where did you hear that, Zach?" "I just got off the phone with Michael Birdy." "Michael?" "Yes. He said you and Christian had been in his cafe this morning and `you' offered him a job. How come you didn't inform me before asking?" Chad could see that Zach still looked like he had his balls twisted up, from earlier this morning. He didn't want to provoke him, but at the same had been tiring of the attitude. "First of all, Zach... well, I guess we might as well have it out." "Oh?" "Yeah. I'm starting to get tired of your attitude. It sucks." "Huh? How's that, Chad?" "Like I said. We have a new liquor rep and you go cursing him out." "The guy fucked up!" Even the cashier up front, from halfway up the frozen foods aisle, heard Zach lash out. "It's his first day, Zach!" "Could of fooled me, Chad. Whatsamatter? You don't get enough ass at home?" Falling into the frozen food case, his ass plunging into the Baby Watson's wasn't the problem. The suggested toppings falling into his lap, the strawberry jar cracking against the chocolate, left their mark. Of course, for Zach, the fist to his jaw left the most indelible mark. "You're fired!" Chad yelled, marching away. "You can't fuckin' fire me!" Zach screamed back. "Are you alright, sonny?" Old Mr. Courson inquired. Like a good a good neighbor, the widower, with nine children, helped wipe the already stained white shirt off. A kind and good heart, he's the guy that will pick up the can that fell off the shelf, or go the extra distance to return a stray shopping cart, in the lot. "I'm... I'm okay, Mr. Courson." "Not in my opinion, Zach. I heard the whole thing. You need help." It seemed the dairy section had helped cool Zach down somewhat, plus Mr. Courson's hand, helping him out of the frozen boundary. "Listen, Mr. Courson, I..." "I need help too." Zach backed down on his nicely telling Mr. Courson off, letting his mind derail to a different subject, "I can give you the family special, if that's what you're referring too?" "You say that everytime I'm in, Zach and it's not like I don't appreciate it, but... let me put this as concise as I can. As much as you've tried or maybe are careful not to divulge, I know about you're gay lifestyle." He waited to see what the more than middle-aged man's judgement would be, but he didn't back down on his pride. "Yes, I'm gay." Mr. Courson pushed his cart along, as Zach led him to the employee's washroom, a trail of chocolate and strawberry preserves following them. "I need your help, desperately or rather my son." "Your son? Which one?" "Shane." Reaching the employee designated men's washroom, a one room facility, Mr. Courson nonchalantly followed him in. It was comprised of a urinal, a stall and not much room left over for the sink and some standing room. "Um, you don't mind, Mr. Courson?" "Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Zach." Mr. Courson figured it the privacy factor, only Zach meant it the other way around. "No, you can stay. I meant, if I wanted to save this shirt, I'm going to have to take it off. You don't mind, do you?" "I can assure you I'm not the one that is gay, Zach." "I'm sorry if I insinuated that. So, what about Shane?" As Mr. Courson talked about Shane, Zach removed the white grocer's apron. It blocked most of the reddish liquid from the strawberry topping, however nothing barred the chocolate from soaking his shirt. In fact, it had run right through to his tee shirt. "Here, allow me," Mr. Courson replied. "But..." Zach tried to stop Mr. Courson from taking his white dress shirt and submerging it in the stopped up basin. "Do you have any detergent?" "For such emergencies, yes," Zach replied. "Excuse me," he said. "Um, sorry. I didn't mean that, Mr. Courson." "Yes. I know. I suppose if I was gay, I would definitely wonder what, of this old man, attracted a young whippersnapper like yourself, Zach." "Oh, you don't know, Mr. Courson." "Oh?" "Yes, there's a lot of young guys out there that go for men your age." "Really? I had no idea." "Sure. There's guys in their twenties who adore men in their forties." "Now your being kind." "Oh?" "I'm pushing fifty." "You sure don't look it, Mr. Courson. In fact, if you had a flair for being gay, I think I might make a play for you. myself!" Mr. Courson smiled, then as he scrubbed away in the sink, chatted. "Thank you, Zach, but can we get back to Shane?" "Sure." "Oh, you better let me have that tee shirt, as well." After untucking his tee shirt, Zach whips it up and over his head. "There you go. Now, what's this about Shane?" "First, like you, he's gay." "He told you that?" "Yes, of which I have no problem whatsoever with it, thanks to people like you and Chad." "Chad? Me? What do we have to do with it?" "I knew you and Chad as ordinary, wonderful people, before I found out about your sexual preferences. I have to admit that the idea of a man being homosexual did scare me. But, like I found out with you and Chad, you're ordinary folk like myself or anyone else. What you do at home is your business." "You make me feel honored. I'll pass that along," then Zach sadly remembers their confrontationg, but finishes out, "to Chad." "I do hope you two make up. I did find it a pleasure to often stop and watch you two work things out." "Yeah. Maybe." "If you don't mind me saying, it was all your fault." It seemed that even Zach's hairy chest turned red, with embarrassment. "But let's get back to Shane. He's having a tough time with being who he is." "It can be. How long has he been out?" "That's the point. Other than my self and his brothers and sisters, he isn't. But I can see that carrying around is heavy burden on his shoulders, by not sharing it. Do you know what I mean?" "Yes, I get the gist of it, Mr. Courson." "There, that's the best I can do with this shirt, I'm afraid." Holding up Zach's white dress shirt, a large brown blotch and a few speckles target the front. However, right now something else perturbs Zach. "That's okay. So, what about Shane?" "The other problem that goes hand in hand with this is Shane's practice." "Practice?" "He's in the medical field. A therapist." "Oh, I see what you're getting at." "You do?" "Sure. How can he do his job right, if he has problems in his own life?" "That's part of what I'm getting at. Zach, I'd like to throw something at you." "I hope it's not the shirt!" Mr. Courson was glad to see some weight uplifted off of Zach's shoulders. He hoped Zach would see something positive in what he was about to unload on him. "No, but you are going to need something over those shoulders." Right away, Mr. Courson reached the tail of his sweatshirt and pulled it over his head. "Here. It's not exactly store dress code." "Wow! I don't believe you're literally giving me the shirt off your back, Mr. Courson." "I'm afraid not without a hidden agenda, Zach." "Oh yeah. Shane, but go ahead. I trust you, Mr. Courson." "Thank you Zach. It means a lot to me, for you saying so. I'd like you to make an appointment to see Shane." "Do you think he could help me?" "I think you both could help each other, however...." Halfway on with the sweatshirt, Zach stood there, thinking. "If what you're thinking is that I'm trying to play matchmaker, that's not the case, Zach." "No, that's not what I'm thinking Mr. Courson. I don't think you're that type of guy." "Thank you, Zach. I do have to warn you though that he's in your age range, I believe." "Oh? How old is Shane?" "Twenty-five." "I'm twenty-two. Not too much difference." "But I'm not thinking in those terms." "I know you're not," though Zach kind of wondered about his own motives. "What I'd like you to try to swing into your conversations, is feeding information to Shane about coming out. And oh, I'll help you with the fees, if you need to..." "I can assure you that I can afford them, plus the college has some medical coverage plan." "Oh, you're still in college. I didn't realize that." "Yes. WRCC. Business management." "Yes, well if you could... shit, I don't know how to put this!" Suddenly Mr. Courson realized he had deviated from his highly polished mannerisms. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry and..." "No problem, Mr. Courson and without saying, I think I know what your intentions are." "You do?" "Yes. Bring up the fact that I'm gay and talk with Shane about it. Make him comfortable with the fact that's he gay. Enough to help him along on his way." "You'll do it, then?" "Sure. How could I not for the man willing to give me the shirt off his back?" The two had a good laugh. % Alonzo stayed on at the hospital, as Steve and Barry hijacked his car. "So, what do you think of Maury?" "Do you mean what do I think of the idea of you and him getting together for a little bondage and ass whacking, Steve?" "No. That's not what I meant." Barry remained silent. "Though the thought did entertain me." "Steve, if Maury Passat wants to get it on with some of his college students, then that's his perogative, but do you really want to risk everything to `go public' with your little fetish?" It hit home, the way Barry put it. Risk everything, to Steve, meant not only his job, but his family, even Barry, if it came down to that. Sure, he loved his kids, but over the past few months he's learned to love his `Beary' more than life itself. "You're so right, babe. I'm really sorry for even thinking such a thing." "It wasn't you thinking it, Steve." "Oh? How does that go?" Dropping a hand from the steering wheel, he finds Steve's crotch. Steve lets out a whopping laugh. "Yeaaah, you're sooooo right!" "Now, I'll tell you what we're going to do, Steve." "What Beary?" "Tonight I'm going to get this out of your system once and for all." Barry knows his man's needs. It might mean going beyond his heartfelt principles, but he needs to `cure' Steve of this kinky behavior. % "Oh my ass feels so sore!" "Well don't think I'm going to make it a habit of this, Max." "I know, Matty, but... I can't tell you how good it felt to wrap my lips around your cock and suck it. Thanks so much." "Hey, the pleasure was `all mine'!" Matty said, as he drove back to Max's place. "Of course, fucking me, too and especially what you said about Terry." "By the way, Max, how are you doing financially?" "Well, we didn't have a will and the duplex was in Terry's name. I know his extended family wasn't too keen on us being shacked up together, so I probably will come out penniless, in that respect. However, Steve and Barry have offered to turn the little room off of the kitchen into a larger bungalow, a sort of small apartment, if I'm willing to take on some more responsibility." "They're nice guys. I'd think that as your best chance." "At least until I'm finished with college." "Have you thought of what you want to do after that, Max? Move to a more popular area? Open your own restaurant?" "Oh no. I couldn't move away from here. I love life here." "I here ya." "I thought maybe of opening a catering business." "You'd surely make a killing in `our' neighborhood." "But doesn't every household have a cook?" "Cook, yes, but every cook doesn't do parties. Although we've lucked out and it looks like Steve and Barry have, as well!" "Oh, they can count on me. I'll do parties for them. No problem. When I needed a job, they had been the first to take me in." "Thanks to Sean." "Yeah. Sean's a sweetheart, too." "So, we'll see you at the party next weekend?" "Hey, do you think Enrique will need some assistance?" "Max, Chad and I want you as our guest, not waiting on us." "I know, but I think I'd be more comfortable doing something." Smiling, Matty says, "Yeah. Sure. Whatever you want, Max." "Thanks Matty and thanks for what you did for me back there." Matty had to agree that his `sacrifice' did seem to make an apparent difference with Max. % 5 Continued.... Copyright 2006 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold or made part of any collection without prior written permission.