Date: Wed, 11 Jul 2007 10:13:54 -0700 (PDT)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: Natures Trail 10

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's Trail" 10
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"Looks like the troops are pooped!"

Dropping his head backwards, Justin looked up into
Matty's face. Slowly he got up from his towel,
acknowledging, "Oh, hi there Matty. Is it four
already?"

Still in the pool, Philip, Aidan and Jeremy continued
to swim, making up their own races, but only swimming
out to where they approximated where they could touch
bottom, then return.

"I don't know where they get the energy," Justin
commented, when Philip yelled, "Go!"

"Don't worry. As soon as they hit the car, they'll be
dozing off," Matty said.

Combining four towels, James, Caleb, Diego and Seth
sat in a powwow, chatting, after saying hello to
Matty, until he yelled out, "Jeremy! C'mon. Time to
go."

"One last race, dad-Matty," he replied.

Matty smiled. They tried different ways of approaching
the `dad' addressing and it seems like the best
working out, is the direction in which Steve and Barry
had their sons going. It would take some time to get
used to.
"You look beat," Matty said to Justin.

"I'm a little tired. Overall they behaved themselves
well. I took them over to the student center for
lunch. Some of my friends came over and sat with us.
They pooled their money and bought the kids ice
cream."

"Now that's really nice," Matty said, smiling. Then,
turning his attention once more to the pool, he
noticed the third race ready to start, when Aidan had
called out `one more'! "I better go drag Jeremy out of
the pool, if I intend on getting home in time for
dinner." Over his shoulder, he said to Caleb and
James, "Boys, get yourselves together."

"We will."

As Matty walked the length of the pool, Justin smiled,
laughing at himself, thinking how the whole time Matty
stood there talking, his eyes fell from eye level,
particularly at the tightness of his swimsuit. From
now on, though the occasion to swim would probably be
rare, he was packing one of his own swimsuits in his
car!

%

"Guess what?"

"What?" Christian asks Michael, smiling because
Michael is.

"We have ourselves a French chef coming from Cali, to
work for us!"

"French? Is that the cuisine we're going to offer?"
Christian inquires.

"Well, he knows American cuisine too. French is his
specialty, but the one from New York is
Italian-American."

"Oh, so you hired two new chefs?"

"I don't know about the chef from New York. He didn't
get back to me yet, but when I first talked with him,
he was very interested in getting out of the city and
settling down in a country atmosphere."

"Sounds nice. Um, Michael I was thinking of
something."

"Oh? I hope you didn't change your mind on becoming
manager?" Michael suddenly lost his smile.

"No. Geez, I wouldn't pass up the opportunity in a
minute. But I was thinking. Since things look like
they could bet very busy, maybe I should put off going
back to school for a year or so. I could also save..."

Wavy his hand, saying, "No, no, no, no, no... oh no
you don't."

Christian gulped, suddenly feeling a burning sensation
in his gut when a deal goes bad.

"I won't have it. I'm hiring an assistant so they can
work here when you're not and futhermore...."

`Whew!' Christian thought to himself, realizing he had
jumped the gun, in the opposite direction Michael was
headed. Then, he asked, "Wait. You had no intentions
of hiring an assistant, until I mentioned I was going
back to school. Did you?"

"Um... well..." Michael couldn't lie. He couldn't even
fib, so he told the truth, "Yeah. Okay. I admit it,
but I think it would be good anyway. After all, what
happens if you call out sick?"

"I never call out sick, Michael."

"Don't try to con me. Besides, if things look like
they're getting busy, with a profit behind it, I might
decide to stay open later... til early morning maybe.
I doubt you would want to pull a fifteen hour day, six
days a week?"

Christian couldn't think of any backup for an answer.
Even if he didn't go to college, he couldn't picture
himself working ninety hours a week. Hell with the
college, he'd be studying his ass off, plus, when
would he have time for Justin in his life?

"I'm sorry, Michael. You're going out of your way to a
lot for me. I shouldn't question your motives."

Sitting across from Christian, at one of the round
cafe tables, Michael reaches across, putting his hand
on top of the new manager's forearm.

"It's okay. You'll see. Things are going to work out.
Everybody needs some free time to themself or else
they'll go bonkers!"

"Still, I want to thank you. You've overwhelmed me
today, with the car, the new position, raise,
responsibility. I don't know how I'll ever be able to
pay you back for your kindness."

"The way I look at it, you're the son I never had. So
be good to daddy and do a good job!"

Michael follows with a wide grin on his face,
Christian returning it.

"Listen, hold down the fort. I've gotta go check up on
the order for the new china."

%

Traveling just beyond the gate of WRCC, Matty hears a
whisper, "Go ahead and ask him, Jeremy."

Something was up in the back seat, nudges and soft
chatter reigning.

"I will, I will," Matty hears Jeremy return his
answer.

Then it came, not in a subdued tone, but with
hesitation, "Um, dad-Matty... um, do you happen to
have any bikes laying around, you're not using?"

`Smart', Matty thought, Jeremy going the
round-about-route. "When we moved in, I brought my
bike over from my mom's house."

"Cool!" his excitement escalated. "Do you think I can
ride it?"

Smiling, Matty could only guess what the main subject
of pool-talk was today. "It's an adult bike. I don't
think it's suitable for an eleven year old."

"Oh," Jeremy groaned, knocking his upbeat attitude
down.

Over his shoulder, as Matty navigated the right turn
onto Bridges Lane, he heard one of the other boys, he
thinks James, say, "Sorry Jeremy." The other kid,
Caleb, added, "I guess you can't be in the club."

Through the rear view mirror, Matty could see the
devastation on Jeremy's face, pouty lips and a look
like the ten year old was ready to cry.

Then Matty thought of something, immediately jumping
in with, "But you know, I think my mom still has the
bike I rode when I was your age, in her garage."

"Really?" Jeremy replied, the glitter returning to his
eyes. "Do you think we can go take a look at it?"

"Cool!" Caleb said.

Twelve year old James added, "Now you can be in the
club!"

This time, the word `club' stuck out, being reported
loud and clear. Matty picked up on it, grilling them,
"Club? What kind of club?"

Blurting it out, Jeremy says, "Us guys are making a
bicycle club."

"Yeah," Caleb tells him, "Us an'Diego, Seth, Aidan and
Philip."

"Sounds like a great idea," Matty said, as he turned
off of Bridges Lane, into James Kitchener's driveway.

HIs mom bolted out of the front door, yelling, "Hi
Matty!" Then, standing at the window of the SUV,
"Thank you so much for taking James. I hope he behaved
himself."

Matty gave an abbreviated explanation, leading to
informing her Justin Beanhacker gave up his classes to
watch them.

"That man's a saint!" She replied. "Wasn't that sweet
of him."

"Yeah. He's `that' kind of guy," Matty replied. "Well,
I've gotta drop Caleb off, then get home," he bid his
farewell.

As Matty's SUV drove away, he could hear James
excitedly asking his mom, "Know what?" He assumed the
topic would be the `bike club'.  Turning out of James'
driveway, Matty hung a left, back onto Bridges Lane.
Following it around two curves, he made a right onto
Oak Tree Road. Halfway down, he turned into another
long driveway. Unlike James, when Caleb got out, the
place looked deserted.

"Nobody home?" Matty called out to the twelve year
old.

"Looks that way," Caleb replied, walking over to the
side of the minivan. "Dad-Mike is still probably at
school and it isn't time for dad-Ty to leave the
office."

"What time does he usually leave the office?" Matty
asks.

All this time, Jeremy is hoping Caleb answers all the
questions correctly, winning the prize of going home
with them, for some extra quality time to fool around.


"I think around six."

"Well, Caleb, I'm not going to dump you here with your
dads not being home. You better hop back in. I'll
bring you home later."

"Alright!" Jeremy cheers old loud.

After Caleb, with his rolled up towel, jumps back in
the minivan, Matty says, "While we're in the area and
have some time to kill, why don't we jet over to my
mom's house and see if we can take a look at my old
bike?"

Of course it excited Jeremy to think he could be going
home with a bike, a prerequisite to joining the newly
formed `bike club'.

%

"Well, I didn't think classes went `too' badly today.
What do you think, Steve?"

"Actually, all things considering our early morning
jitters, I think things ran rather smoothly."

In a joking manner, Steve says, "It drew Dellano out
of his cave," regarding the superintentdent of
schools.

"Right," Barry agrees. "Since things are running close
to plan, he steps out in the lime-light to take the
credit!"

"Oooooh, that was a cruel shot," Barry says, with lack
of sincerety, ending with, "but true!"

"C'mon. Let's go claim our kids."

4:30-ish, Barry and Steve snake through the hallways,
then step outside into the breezeway, feeling a slight
wind rustle the fabric of their shirts.

"Y'know I just realized something?"

"What's that Steve?"

"The cross-ventilation in my room is terrible."

"I can tell."

"Oh?"

Barry points out the sweat marks at Steve's pits, a
little wet spot mid-chest and then feeling up his
back, his hand detects a damp spot, lower back.

Then chuckling, Steve says, "No wonder I didn't get
any students staying after with questions!"

"I'm sure it wasn't you, Steve. Except for the seniors
who are registered at WRCC next semester, I'm sure the
others had a tough time figuring out where they were
headed for their next class."

Grabbing Barry's arm, Steve stops him, saying, "By the
way, did you get a look at the science professor?"

"Which one?"

"Passat?"

"Dr. Scalia's nephew?"

"Yeah. What a bear he is!"

"Oh? Checking out the professors, to sneak into one of
the janitor's closets, Steve?"

Five feet from the WRCC gymnasium, Steve says, "No
way." He laughs.

"What's so funny, Steve?"

"I know this sounds strange, but every since I've come
to know you, what with your hairy bod and all, I'm
more keyed into the `bear crowd'."

"Is that a fact?"

"Yeah, like Maria's nephew. I think he's hairier than
you."

"Really? Checked him out good, did you, Steve?"

"Well, I couldn't help it when he came up to talk with
me."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. He had his shirt unbuttoned like three buttons.
Man, what a rug!"

"Oh really?"

Barry was getting a kick out of Steve!

"I mean, you could just tell the guy was hairy right
on down to the.... um..."  Steve looked around,
noticing students, other people, as they neared the
four doors leading into the gym facilities, so
switched his description from something sexual, to,
"the beltline."

"Hmm..."

"What?"

"Oh, I was just wondering, Steve, how much you checked
me out before we hooked up?"

Steve smiled, opening the metal and glass door,
holding it for his partner, remarking, "To be
continued!"

"Dads!"

Before they had even snaked down the hallway, towards
the swimming area, Philip led Aidan, Seth and Diego,
fully clothed, rollups of towel and wet suits, right
into their presence. Trailing, Justin kept up with a
brisk walk. He had that `fresh-washed' look, head of
hair damp and flat.

Philip flew right up to Barry and Steve, yelling,
"Guess what dads?"

"What?" the dads both questioned back.

However, before Philip could spill the info, eleven
year old Seth steps in front of him, in a frenzy,
telling them, "Me'n'Philip," nudging him, "'n'Ai'n'the
guys are making up a bike club!"

Pushing between Philip and Seth, Diego says, "Don't
forget about me!"

Throwing his arm over Diego's shoulders, like pals,
Seth tells them, "Oh yeah and my best brother too!"

His face two inches from Seth's, turning to him, Diego
says, "Hey! I'm your only brother!"

"Oh yeah," Seth replies, with a smile.

All this time, Aidan has remained in back of the
three, Justin's arm over his shoulders, coddling him.

Steve notices, asking, "Something wrong, Justin?"

"I don't think Aidan is feeling well."

While Steve keeps the trio entertained, Barry steps
around them, asking, "Don't feel good, son?"

"I think I got a bellyache."

Seeming to know the reason why, Justin tells Barry,
"At the student center today, my friends gathered
around while we were eating lunch. They bought the
kids ice cream."

"Nice of them."

"Yes," Justin says, adding, "but I think they became a
little too generous, asking the kids if they wanted
more than one helping."

"Do you think that's it, Aidan," his father directs to
him.

"I don't know. Could be."

Not wanting to be a snitch, but more as a helpful
reference, Justin says, "I think the two pops and the
cone did him in."

"Three helpings of ice cream!"

The others now paying attention, Seth speaks up,
telling all, "I had four!"

"Four?" Steve exclaims. "Where did you put it?"

Looking down, Seth pulls up his tee shirt, exposing
his tummy, the little innie almost at his beltline.

"Right here!"

"We better stop at the drugstore on the way home,"
Barry says, as he helps corral the preteens towards
the exit.

As the kids enter the van, Steve and Barry thank
Justin profusely. He waves away their accolades of
thankfulness.

True to Matty's predictions, when the kids' heads hit
the seats of the van, they began to doze off, little
snores filling the back chamber.

"So, what are we going to do for tomorrow?" Steve asks
Barry.

"Oh, you mean about the kids?"

"Yeah. We can't just turn them loose in at the
swimming pool and set them on auto-pilot."

"I realize that. Here's an idea though. Which of the
parents don't work?"

Running his right hand over his five o'clock shadow,
Steve mulls it over, cross-referencing parents and
child. He comes up with, "None?"

"Oh boy."

"But I got another idea."

"Shoot!" Barry says.

"How about if we give Max the day off and slip him a
couple of extra bucks?"

"He has classes."

"Rats! I forgot about that!"

"But, we could ask Berk if he would mind?"

"I think he wanted to start working on the driveway,
Barry."

"The driveway can wait, if he's willing to watch the
kids."

"I suppose," Steve says. "The man's a workaholic
anyway. He could stand a relaxing day at the pool."

Pulling up into the driveway, rolling over the chunks
of gravel, stirred the backseats awake.

"Are we home already?" Seth says, stretching out both
arms to the side, almost boxing Aidan's ear.

Not feeling great, Aidan didn't take notice.

During the trip home, Philip lay against the side of
the van, Diego resting his head on his shoulder.
"Y'know Phil, you would make a nice pillow!"

Philip smiles, saying, "C'mon, let's check out our
bikes before supper!"

Like relighting a burnt out candle, Philip's comments
stir them all up, except Aidan, whom sits with a pouty
face, holding both arms around his stomach.

"Oh gee," Barry says, snapping his fingers, "We forgot
to stop at the drugstore."

Before Diego followed Philip and Seth out of the van,
he fesses up, "I think dad-Callan could have something
to help. My dad," Alonzo, "is always saying our
bathroom looks like a drugstore!"

"What do you say Steve?"

"I suppose we could check it out."

So, Barry took Aidan inside, as Steve hiked across the
backyard, past the barn and into Callan's and Alonzo's
backyard. He saw Callan's car pulled alongside the
house, so knew he was home. Knocking on the door,
Freddie appeared.

"Hi!"

"I'm Steve Clark. I don't think we've met."

"Freddie Burris," Freddie says, "I think I talked to
you on the phone yesterday when your kids came over
for breakfast."

"Yes. Sorry that happened."

"Don't be. Max already warned me it's a two-way
street." Freddie could see the questioning on Steve's
face, so added, "After all the times Diego and Seth
freeloaded off of your household?"

"Oh, it was nothing," Steve fended away.

"So what can I help you with?"

As Steve went through the `ice cream party' story, he
couldn't help himself, peering, as unobtrusively as
possible at the neckline of the twenty-four year old,
taking in the medium-brown hair adorning parts of his
chest which could be viewed. When he entered, first
seeing Freddie, he noticed the slight stomach. Now the
hair completed the bear description.

"Well, let's see what we've got!"

Freddie led the way to the stairs. As they ascended,
Steve wet his lips, watching the glutes shift from
side to side, the way the fabric of the chef's shirt
pulled and twisted to the rhythm of his waist, in
motion. As they neared Callan's and Alonzo's bedroom,
Freddie softly knocked.

"I thought Callan mentioned he was going to take a
nap."

However, when Callan opened the bedroom door, both men
beheld a feast before them. There, with toweled waist,
he stood, drying his hair with one hand, flaunting one
blond armpit, the light hair covering of his pecs,
still wet. His blond trail, decidedly darker from the
wetness, led to a deep innie, below the treasure trail
too quickly for eyes, dipping underneath the tucked in
towel.

"Something I can help you with?"

For a moment, tongues stayed lodged in cheeks, as the
two men stood there. Finally Freddie emits, "Um, Steve
needs something for an upset stomach."

"Oh?" Callan asked concerned, dropping his arm,
clenching the towel in his fist, at his side, "not
feeling well, Steve?"

"Not for me," Steve set Callan straight. "Um, Aidan.
He came home today with a bellyache."

Turning, walking towards the jon, the two followed
Callan, like a bear being led to honey. Any minute,
they expected the towel to slip from Callan's waist,
as he opened the medicine cabinet door, reaching up
high to the top shelf, all the while talking about the
contents of the stocked shelves.

"I know we have something here... yes, here it is."

As if the hot shower still rained down in the tub,
Steve rubbed his sweaty palms together, constantly
licking his lips, swallowing, feeling slight
sensations farther down. In particular, he noticed
Callan's profile, the two perky nips sticking out from
his wet chest fur, still slightly doused from his
shower, the flat contour of his stomach, indented at
his bellyhole, then the golden brown treasure trail.
When he reached up, the gap between Callan's navel and
towel broadened.

"This will work!" Callan stated, holding a brown
bottle.

"Great," Steve said, pulling his thoughts back to the
real reason he was there.

Lack of something pertinent to say, Freddie asks, "Are
you sure?"

"Guaranteed," Callan insisted.

Making their exit, down the stairs, Steve's mind
didn't focus much on Freddie, but rather an indelible
imprint of the front of Callan's bod.

When they entered the kitchen, Steve was totally
surprised to hear Freddie comment, "Wow! What a bod,
huh Steve?"

Steve didn't really know what to say, so left it as,
"Yup," then hightailed it out of there.

%

"Well, look what the cat dragged in!"

"Do I look that bad?" Justin asks his Uncle Seb.

"Bad day at school?"

"No. Not at all. Infact I had a great time."

"Really? Usually I get the `I've got so much work to
do'. What's up Jus?"

Going through his whole day, like a little kid
alerting a parent to an action-packed day, Justin
spilled his guts.

"Sounds like a refreshing discourse to the norm?" his
uncle suggests.

"Like I said. It was a good day."

"Hey, I wanted to tell you something for the longest
time."

"Oh? What's that?"

"Well, I know I haven't said it much, but I really
enjoy having you live here with me."

"The feeling's mutual. But?"

First his uncle looked at him, to try to get an idea
of what Justin supposed. With no satisfaction, he
pursued, cracking a smile, "I'm glad you met a nice
young man like Christian."

"Whew!" Justin blew out his pent up, nervous breath,
thinking something negative was to follow.

One night, the two drunk, Justin brought Christian
into the house and he's been there ever since!

"What?" his uncle finally asked, tired of
mind-reading.

"I suppose I owe you an apology, Uncle Seb."

"Apology? What in tarnation for, Jus?"

"Well, here you were good enough to take me in and I
sneak Christian in behind your back. If you recall, I
never asked you if it was okay if he stayed here. I
just assumed."

With a dart of sadness in his voice, Justin looks down
at the floor, ashamed to show his face. Then he feels
a finger at the underside of his chin, his uncle
lifting up his head to face him.

"Listen, Jus. You're all I got. All the family's gone.
So I have to worry about what your future is going to
be like."

With a smile forced at the corners of his mouth, more
smirking, Justin replies a simple, "Thanks."

Dropping his hand, Seb says warmly, "I never married,
never had a son, so I'm glad I have you to care about.
When your mom and dad passed on, I swore on their
graves I would take care of you. Part of caring for
you is your happiness. It Christian is a part of the
picture, them he's most welcome to stay."

All Justin could think of saying is, "Thanks."

While on a roll, his uncle adds, "Y'know someday when
I'm too old to run the shop, somebody's going to have
to carry on for me."

Thinking of his music studies at WRCC, Justin didn't
have the heart to break it to his uncle he didn't have
an interest in running the business. But his uncle
read the look of doubt on his face, clear as an HD Tv.

"Of course you have your musical career to pursue and
Christian all tied up in his cooking career, I don't
expect either one of you to hang around the Army &
Navy."

"Sorry," Justin's woe returned.

"No, don't be. It's what I chose to do for my life.
I'm not going to impose it on anyone who doesn't have
an interest. Hell, when the time comes we'll sell off
the business. Buy up a restaurant for Christian and an
orchestra for you!"

It brought the laughter back into Justin's eyes. "You
don't `buy' an orchestra, Uncle Seb!"

"Still, it's no use hanging onto to something that's
no good to somebody. Might as well reinvest in
something lucrative. Something for your's and
Christian's future."

"I don't believe I'm hearing this."

"Hearing what?" Uncle Seb continued on his roll. "I
thought it would make you happy."

"I am. I suppose what you've told, more overwhelms me.
Especially when it comes to Christian. I mean, both of
us have know each other for like six months."

"You love him, don't you?"

"Sure I do. He's like waking up in a dream and there
he is, the most perfect guy in the world. But instead
of a dream, he's real. Uncle Seb, I `m really a lucky
guy."

Giving Justin a hug, Uncle Seb replies, "We both are."

%

"Let's see what we have here."

Diego and Seth stood there, with Philip, in a half
circle, as Berk stopped cleaning up the new lawn
mower, to dig out the family bikes.

"I've been meaning to clean the garage out, but
there's been so much work to catch up on."

Philip says, "Our dads say the place was rundown when
they bought it, so I guess it makes sense it's got to
get fixed up!"

Berk smiles, as he moves a couple of old tennis
rackets, thinking how insightful the lad is.

"Here, want to take these?"

Philip rushes forward, taking a dirty tennis racket,
springy strings hanging off of them.

"Can you still use these?" Philip asks, almost fitting
his hand, up to the wrist through one of the holes.

"If they can be fixed. Leave them to side til I get
around to it," Berk tells the two.

"Wow Berk," Seth says. "Is there anything you `can't'
fix?"

As he worked, Berk spit out some of his early life
history, saying, "When I was a little boy, growing up
in Turkey, I would repair anything that needed
mending."

"How old were you when you were a little boy?"

"Diego, that's dumb!" Philip tells him.

"I meant when Berk was repairing stuff!"

To put a stop to the war, Berk replied, "I started
fixing little things when I was around your ages. If
my mother needed a chair fixed, I would find some
material and weave the seat back together. When my
father fixed the old truck, I would watch and even
volunteer to help him."

"You were fixing trucks when you were our age?" Seth
asks.

"Well," Berk finally made an effort to stop sifting
through the junk and converse, "back in Turkey, we
didn't have luxuries like you have here."

"Like what?" Philip inquired.

"No Tv, no...."

When the four boys heard `no Tv', they made a big deal
about the lack of.

Seth says, "We weren't rich," he began telling about
his past life, "but we had a Tv, even though it was
tiny and didn't work half the time!"

"Weren't you a hillbilly or something?" Philip naively
asks him.

"I lived in the mountains. Nah, I was no hillbilly,
but we didn't have much. Lucky enough to have food to
eat," Seth put it.

Putting his hand on Seth's shoulder, Diego says, "I'm
glad you came to live with us."

"Me too," Seth replies. "Now I have a lot of neat
stuff, but most of all I got a brother and two dads!"

"I'm glad our two dads met, too!" Philip brings up.

Diego adds, "And we all met each other and are
friends!"

While the boys chatted, Berk went back to the dirty
work of sorting through things. He picked up an old
fishing rod, saying, "This is still good. All it needs
is to be cleaned up and a new line."

"Hey! Maybe we can go fishing sometime!" Philip alerts
them.

"Berk," Diego asks, "do you know how to fish?"

Reminiscing, Berk draws off the thoughts of his
childhood, telling them, "I used to go fishing in
Katranci Bay, near Fethiye." Then, digging deeper, "My
mother worked at a hotel. When she comes home, I have
the fish all cooked and ready to eat!"

"Berk, what was it like living in Turkey?" Seth asks.

Getting up, Berk's tee shirt gets caught on a piece of
metal. A loud `ri-i-i-i-ip' is heard. Standing, he
faces the four squirts. From almost his left armpit,
down to the shirttail, is wasted.

"Hey! You've got a lot of hair, just like dad-Barry!"
Diego observes.

Giggling, Berk says, "Yes. It helps to keep me warm in
the wintertime!"

The kids laugh it off.

"I will go and change, then be right back."

Taking the route through the kitchen, to the room
behind the oven wall, Berk says to Barry, "A little
mishap in the garage."

"Those kids and their bikes!" Barry summises, then
says, "If they are keeping you from your work, send
them in the house."

"No, no, no. It is okay."

It doesn't go unnoticed, the full frontal assault on
his eyes, the sweaty bod, hair running down Berk's
bod, from chest to waistline.

"How is Aidan?"

Clicking his pen closed, folding a notebook in half,
Barry replies, "Steve received some medicine from
Callan. I think he's feeling better. I would warn Max
not to set a plate for him at the table. I think he'll
be sleeping most of the night."

"It is too bad. He is missing out with his brother and
friends," Berk replies, without thinking bout it,
peels the torn shirt from his bod.

"Well, I'd better think about cleaning off the table.
Max will be drifting in soon."

"Yes and I need to get back to the boys."

Walking away, Barry watches the Turk leave the room.
He laughs to himself, saying, `Another `bear' for
Steve's collection!'

%

"Hey, want to spend the night again?"

"I don't think so," John Torkelson says, as he jacks
up a pallet in the stockroom of Barr's & Bridges.

Both teens worked up a sweat, rearranging the
stockroom, condensing boxes, moving some to shelving,
working as a team to reveal as much floor space as
possible for tomorrow's deliveries.

"I enjoyed sketching you last night."

"It was fun posing for you," John told Kevin, swinging
the pallet around, parking it in a tight spot.

Leaning his chin on top of the handle, Kevin stares,
watches as John's bod moves, his shirt twisting every
which way to accomodate the movement of the pallet to
get it into it's final resting place.

"Want me to do that one?" John asks about Kevin's
pallet.

"Nah. I can handle it."

Pulling his pallet jack out, he moves out of the way
for Kevin to juggle his way across the stockroom
floor, lining up the sides of the two pallets, parking
it.

"No, more to your left," John instructs him.

Being good natured about it, Kevin laughs, saying,
"Someday I'll get the hang of this."

"Hey watch it! You almost ran over my foot!"

"Oops! Sorry `bout that," Kevin says, `putting the
brakes on', which means pulling the jack handle back
and giving a slight pull. "Whew, that was a close
one!"

"You're dangerous, you know that bro?" John tells him,
laughing.

"You wouldn't be laughing if I ran over your foot!"

"Then you'd have to kiss it and make it better!"

"I could probably get into it," Kevin replies.

Wrinkling up his nose, John comments, "Ewe... don't
even think about it!"

Shrugging his shoulders, Kevin says, "Why not? Could
be a turn on."

"My feet?"

"Sure. I think it would be kind of fun to massage your
feet... kiss them all over."

"You're serious Kev, aren't you?"

"You see me laughing?"

"To each his own," John dismisses it.

However, the twitch in his crotch, makes Kevin store
the idea in the back of his brain.

%

©2007 T. Chase McPhee
This story may not be sold, nor made part of any
collection, without prior consent from the author.

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