Date: Sun, 15 Jul 2007 17:57:38 -0700 (PDT) From: T. Chase McPhee Subject: Natures Trail 11 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" 11 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee % "Man, how'd you like those hot frats, Jim?" "Yeah, what a kicker," Jim says to Connor. "In science class, I saw this hot blond... had to be a senior, in a long white trench coat. What a hottie!" "Oh, I know who you mean. Hey, that wasn't any senior. He's one of the professors!" "Really? He's so young!" "What do I know. When in doubt..." The two teens say together, "Ask Maury!" "Ask me what?" Maury says, coming in the back door of the kitchen. Connor says, "Some dude in a white coat, in Jim's science class." "Yeah," Jim says, "I thought he was a senior, but Connor thinks he's a professor." Maury rattles off, without thinking, "Dr. Aldo Perriand, PHD from the University of Hawaii. Double major in geology and volcanology. A real firecracker, I tell you." "He's gay?" Laughing, Maury, says, "He `thinks' he's bisexual, but someday he'll wise up to the true facts." "You... you've had sex with him?" Jim questions. "Bite your tongue, Jimmy-boy. You know two tops don't mix!" "How am I supposed to know!" Connor asks, "I wonder if he's hot in bed?" Maury, who observes very few rules, says, "Want to find out?" "You're kidding?" Connor asks him. Jim jumps in with, "Connor! I can't believe you're thinking about it! You don't even know the man!" Again, the laugh of the devil, Maury states, "But I do and I'm sure good Professor Perriand wouldn't hestitate to plug up a nice teen hole such as yours!" "Maury!" Jim yells at him, "Don't encourage him!" "I wouldn't do it anyway," Connor tells Jim, "you know that!" More laughter follows, as Maury says, "Yeah, you guys only do threeways with me!" "It wasn't a threeway and you know it, Maury!" Jim barks at him. "What do you mean? There I am laying out in the bed, Connor's got his lips sealed about my cock and your fucking him. What do you call that?" The boys knew they'd been had. Connor enlightens him, "Okay, so we had three guys in a bed. You and I only did oral sex. Jim is the only one who did anal and it wasn't with you, so there!" Still in a giddy nature, Maury says, "Yeah, but as soon as I let loose of my load, you couldn't suck enough of it down. Good to the last drop, huh?" Maury laughed his ass off, but Connor and Jim failed to see the hilarity, though they smirked. "Still," Jim replies, "the science guy is bi, so he doesn't want to hook up with gay guys." "I dunno. He might be able to fit us into his busy planner." "We told you," Connor stresses, "we're not doing any threeways." "I'm not suggesting a threeway... but four could prove interesting!" "Oh no," Connor says, "you three top guys with me? Shit! I'll drown in all that cum!" Again, laughing in a jovial manner, Maury says, "Oh, so you're thinking about it?" "Maury?" "Yeah, Jim?" "Let it go, huh?" Maury let it go. For the moment! % "Wow what a day!" "You look a little whacked out," Michael told Kevin, as he sunk into one of the booths of the cafe. "Care for a little nip?" Smiling, Kevin says, "Sure. Open your shirt!" "For your information, I meant something from the bar!" "Oh." Kevin knew Michael's meaning, but his tastebuds weren't convinced he would like a brandy over the nip-meat! "So, tell me about today," Michael asks, setting down on the red vinyl cushion across from his lover, setting a small glass in front of each of them. "I need help." "Need help?" "Yeah. When Barr's & Bridges was a little supermarket, I could do everything myself, but with the triple square footage, I can't do it anymore Michael." "So, did you forget we live in a college town? I'm sure there's some college frat who needs some extra bucks in his or her pocket." "I was thinking of somebody older." "Oh. Then it wipes the slate clean. How about an ad in the paper?" "I could do that. But for right now, I don't think it's feasible." "Why not?" Kevin looked at his drink, then swallowed the half-filled glass of JD. "There's something you're not telling me, Kevin. Now spit it out." "I... I.. well, the truth of the matter is, I don't have the money to hire another guy." "Yes, and?" Kevin tipped the shot glass to his lips, letting the last two drops fall onto his tongue. "Be right back," Michael said. In a jiffy, he was plopping his ass back down on the cushy seat, the whole bottle of JD making a thud as it landed on the table. Michael tipped it over, saying, "Well?" Lifting his shotglass, Kevin met the exiting liquid. He downed half of it, then rolled the small glass between both of his hands, thinking. "Maybe if I get you drunk, you'll level with me," Michael said, again tipping the bottle. "No. No more. You don't have to go to extremes to make me talk." "Then?" "You see, when I struck out on my own, I could have taken on other accounts, but I didn't want to spread myself thin." "Understandable." "So I only took on Barr's & Bridges. It kept my head just above water, giving me enough rent for a room over on Cherry Tree Lane. Remember I told you about the old lady I rented a room from?" "I remember. So?" Michael asked taking a sip. "Like I said, I made enough just to get by on. Now that I'm living here with you, I've been able to save a little, but I started to get plagued by problems." "The delivery truck breaking down?" "Yeah. Even though Hank, down at the station gave me a break, the repairs pretty much soaked up my savings. Michael, I don't have enough to hire. What can I say? I'm stuck and what's worse, starting tomorrow, to meet the demands, I'm going to have to work til almost closing." Seeing the dire straits Kevin was in, toppled over by worry, he felt compelled, from the heart to extend his kindness. Reaching across the table, he made Kevin to stop fidgeting with his glass, taking both hands in his. "I want to help." "I knew you were going to say that. No, Michael. I'm not going to take advantage of you." "Now you've done it," Michael retreated, breaking off the tender feeling up of Kevin's hands. "What did I do?" Smirking, Michael replies, "You went and insulted me, that's what!" Looking around, seeing Christian taking cash at the register, toning his voice down, he leans in and tells Kevin, "You think I've been fuckin' around with you for no reason? Huh?" "Well... I...." "Dammit, Kevin. If you haven't felt it yet... the strong feelings I have for you... dammit, if you don't feel love back for me, then get up right now and head for the door!" They were strong words. Serious words, spoken with true conviction. Kevin sat there, biting his lip, thinking if he hit the door, walked out, something terribly important would be missing from his life, draining his soul. "I... I can't do that..." His head sank down, chin almost hitting the open V of his shirt. Hands moving across the table, Michael tenderly says, "Kevin, look at me." He stilled sulked. "Look at me, Kevin," Michael said more forcefully, but with tenderness. "What?" "Aside from loving you with my heart and soul, I think we make a good pair." "I suppose." "I know it came as a surprise to you when the workers walked in the cafe two weeks ago and started tearing the place apart." "I guess," he answered solemnly. "Well that's not going to happen again. If we're going to be a couple, I'm going to be sharing not only my heart and my bed, but everything else. If we're going to make this union work, we both have to be honest with each other." "Okay," Kevin agreed. "Now, how much do you need to pull you out of the red?" "I'm not in the red." "But I detect you're pretty close to being there!" "Yeah. I guess," Kevin replied, still reluctant to give up his woes. "So what's it going to be? Ten grand?" "Okay. I'm going to let you have it," Kevin finally opened up. "The truck is a lemon. Hank says it's going to keep sapping money out of my bank account." "So what you need is a new truck." "That's about the size of it." "How much?" "Michael, I can't ask you to buy me a truck." "Y'know that wasn't some big long drawn out speech I just made. Let me be blunt, Kevin. Suppose I fork over the money for a new truck. Are you going to up and leave me?" "Now you're making me mad, Michael. What the fuck kind of question is that?" Getting up, slapping both hands on the table, everything jumps, nearly knocking over the bottle of JD. All eyes in the cafe focus on the loud altercation. "Kevin, sit down. I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. Just a wrong choice of words." Kevin sits. All sweated up with emotions, he stabs the napkin holder with his fingertips, drawing out six or seven pieces. He wipes his face and around the back of his neck. "I'm sorry too," he finally says. "How about we... start again.. but without all the drama?" Michael hopes his choice of words are not provocative. "Sure. I'm sorry for the outburst." "So, can we talk about this, as a couple. Not just one-sided?" "I..." Kevin was almost ready to belabor the point of Michael shelling out big bucks, but then his glance caught him. He read the calm Michael felt inside and it dictated a likewise behavior. So, he changed his wording, giving in, realizing this is the guy he wanted to spend all time with. "I was surfing the internet, saw something." "And that would be?" "A medium sized cube truck." "Want to elaborate on that?" For the time being, Kevin skirted around the going price, describing the ins and outs of the body of the truck, revealing, "It's a Chevy Kodiak." "And the price ticket?" "You know, I could probably get an early model one, secondhand..." "Kevin, we don't want you getting another lemon now, do we?" "No." "So, shock me. How much is a 2007 Kodiak?" Licking the sweat off of his five o'clock shadow above his lip, his right hand slipping inside his shirt, rubbing his sweaty, hairy chest, he tried to work up the courage to reveal the price ticket. "Um, sixty-two grand?" He replied, squinting up his face, as if hearing a squealing sound, unbearable to the ears. Michael nodded, sitting back in his seat, contemplating, replying, "I could have the money moved over into..." he almost said `my', "our checking account by Friday. When do you want to go pick it out?" Kevin went straight for the bottle, overriding the shot glass, take a hefty gulp. "Just like that? You have that kind of money?" Smiling, Michael replies, "I've been in business for years. I bought the cafe decades ago when it should have been torn down, but fixed it up instead. I was a gay man with only an interest in working. I saved. Invested. What else do I have to spend my money on?" "But for me?" "Oh, don't get me started, Kevin Spangler!" Michael warned him, threatening him with a spoon. % "Guess what kiddies?" Barry says at the dinner table, surrounded by the entire Clark-Barr clan. "Who you talking to?" Tom asks. "Those two," Barry points out Philip and Aidan with his fork. "Us?" the two preteens ask. Directing more to Aidan, but also Philip he says, "You better start feeling good. School starts on Wednesday!" "What?" Philip questions, "Only one more day to swim?" "You've been swimming everyday for the past month. Time to wring you two out!" Steve interjects thoughts to how Barry came by this information. "Our fearless superintendent called me. Seems the elementary and junior high schools have been certified `clean' by the county inspectors," Barry relayed to everyone. "What about the high school?" Seventeen year old Eric asks. "There's a chance we could move back in next week, but for the rest of the week, it's back to WRCC." "Cool!" Denis and Mark call out. "Oh, by the way," Steve brings up, "I hate to put a downer in your cheerful thoughts, but a certain math teacher I was chatting with, clued me in that if two certain seniors didn't have an excuse to him by tomorrow, they were going to be marked `cut'!" Barry's and Steve's eyes were on Mark and Denis, as they squeamishly moved their asses around on the chair. Visibly they could see Mark nudge Denis in the ribs. "Well... ah," Denis starts out, playing with his spaghetti with his fork, twirling it around on his plate, making designs, "y'see, Coach Hollister said..." Right away, Barry says, "I don't care what Coach Hollister said. This isn't about him. So stop passing the buck!" Philip and Aidan sat there, with their mouths formed into little o's, eyes wide opened. Steve said, "Eric?" when he heard the sixteen year old comment, "Damn!" almost too soft to hear. "Sorry," Eric said, but he wasn't their focus at the moment. Then his partner in crime, Mark, blurted out, "Yeah, we cut Mr. Hanson's class." Steve picks up the responsibility, as part of the parenting team, "You know, math is more important than swimming. You two aren't even registered for it." "But dad," Denis started in. Barry cautioned him, "Let your father finish." "I think Mr. Hanson was being a good sport about it, rather than turning in a cut slip. But more importantly, anything like a cut gets on your records, how do you think it will look on your college transcript?" "Boys?" Barry prompted for an answer. "Not good," Mark finally said. Steve kicked in, "Now what am I supposed to write on the excuse for tomorrow? Do you want me to lie?" Philip and Aidan sat there, stunned. Tom and Eric right away took this as a lesson to be learned. At least not to cut and `get caught'. For now they just thought how Mark and Denis were up `shits-creek', without a paddle! "May I add something here, please, if I may?" All eyes turned towards the silent side of the table, where Berk and Max sat. "Yes, Berk?" Steve answered. "I think it would be a good idea if Mark and Denis wrote out the notes of excuse." "Us?" Denis answered for the two. "Yes. A letter of apology to Mr. Hanson, explaining the reasons for not attending his class. In it, you will explain this idiot thing you do." "Sounds like a plan," Steve said, smiling. "But dad," Mark protested, "Mr. Hanson wants the excuse from you." "Yeah," Denis jumps in, "he's not going accept something signed by us." Barry enters his opinion, "He will if you put some thought into it. Make it convincing boys. Case closed!" Mark and Denis didn't like the decision they would have to abide by, but they didn't have a choice. What a bummer! "Dad, our bikes are all rusty," Philip comes out of nowhere with. Instead of looking to Philip and Aidan, the dads look over to Berk. "He is correct," Berk tells them. "Any chance of salvaging them?" Steve inquires. "They would require a good amount of money to refurbish, but I have a different concern." "Oh?" Barry asks. "Yes. The bikes. They are too small for the children." "Well, that's a different story," Steve remarks. Denis, in an attempt to redeem themselves, interjects, "Seb's Army & Navy sells bikes." There's a lull in the conversation, the dads looking to Denis, as if asking `what does this have to do with the price of eggs in China?' "You lost me," Barry tells him. "Mark and I are going to apply for jobs there. If we get hired, we can get a discount, maybe." "That sounds like a big `if'," Steve says. "At least we're trying to do something, okay?" Tom and Mark noticed the attitude, the chip on Denis' shoulder, like right away, then shifted their attention to the dads at the table. "I don't like your tone of your voice, Denis. Now apologize to your father." Swallowing, Denis says, "Yeah-okay-I'm-sorry." Barry, unconvinced of the emotion behind the apology, says, "Denis, you can excuse yourself and go to your room." Backing out, making this awful screech on the floor, pressing his ass down on the chair, as hard as he can, he gets up to leave, saying, "Whatever." After Denis leaves, Steve comments, "I don't know what's gotten into him." Mark slips, "Coach Hollister yelled at him today." Of course it opened a new chapter of discussion, but Barry quenched it with, "We'll talk about this later. You're father and I have have another matter to take up with you and Denis, so we'll discuss it when Denis has cooled down. Now, let's see if we can enjoy the rest of this meal in peace?" "Oh, by the way," Steve smiles, looking at the youngest boys, "did you happen to make coffee for us, Philip or Aidan?" "Yeah," Philip broke the icy environment, keyed up with the good deed he and Aidan did this morning. "Did you like it?" "Um," Steve looks to Max, who puts his finger to his lips, not to mention the fact coffee dripped out of the maker, more like sludge. "It was tasty. Kind of on the strong side. I think before you two decide to make it again, you see Max for instructions on how to measure it out?" Neither the dads, nor Max let on to the method in which they filled the basket to the brim, using at least a half of a pound of coffee. When the water was pumped from the reservoir, it had no where to go, but overflowing the soggy grinds. What a mess Max had cleaning up the countertop and floor. Steve thought of reprimanding, but their intentions had been too upbeat to cut down. "Maybe next time we can make pancakes, too!" Philip said. This time Max spoke up, offering some cooking skills addressed first before their first solo cooking adventure. % Copyright 2007 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.