Date: Fri, 31 Aug 2007 10:14:52 -0700 (PDT) From: T. Chase McPhee Subject: Natures Trail 24 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" 24 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee % "So, how did you like your first day at customer service?" "It was okay," is all John said to Tom, without looking up, making eye contact. "It can be tiring. Knock the energy out of you," Tom said, cheerfully, at the same time sensing the low-keyed attitude. "Must be it," John said, sorting out some receipts, filing them away into a compartment of a zippered bag. Tom knew `it' wasn't it. When John addressed a customer, a wide turn around occured, a more cheerful approach to customer service, full of energy and pizzazz. When they returned to a company of two, he said, "You know I'm not the enemy here, John?" "Whatever you say, Tom," John said, turning his back to the counter, saying, "I have to finish up before my shift is over." Banging his fist down on the counter, Tom took off, headed for the main stockroom. Busting in the doors, he shouted, "What did you tell John?" A trucker was having his manifest signed off. Changing his attitude, Tom greeted the distributor, as Kevin walked him to the loading dock, closing the outdoors off, locking the double doors behind him. "Now what's this about, Tom?" "John. He's giving me the cold shoulder. What went on between you two?" Parking his ass on a carton, Kevin straddled the pallet jack, resting his arms across the top, he opened with, "First of all I want to say you treated John like shit." "Yeah. So? You were supposed to fix that, I thought?" "Me? Fix it? Undo the damage you've caused. How am I supposed to do that?" "He likes you. Trusts you. He'll believe anything you tell him," Tom says. "Look. I told him a little about what we talked about. Not the whole story. Just enough to cover the `over protective' bit. I asked John to take the customer service job as a favor to me, but let him know it was coming from you. I told him you're not bad to get a long with. There's only so much I can say Tom. As far as how you two getting along, that's up to you." "But he's being so stubborn about it, Kev!" "Like I said. You treated him like shit. In his own way he has to learn how to trust you, see that you can be fair. No way I can do anything about that. It has to come from you." >From a sixpack, Tom steals a can of Dr. Pepper, flips open the tab and catching a sip, before it bubbles over. "I suppose your right," Tom replies. "Another thing," Kev relays. "That's okay. Keep it coming. I can take it." "It's not about you. Tom, I think I'm falling for John." "Like in love? You can't do that. You're only nineteen years old. You have to get through college. Get a job. Find your place in the world." "Like you?" Kev says, sarcastically. "And what's that supposed to mean?" Tom asks, a hand on hip, as he sets the can down on the pallet. "Look at you. When's the last time you had a date?" "I told you. I'm seeing this cubeboy at the club in Madison." "What'd you do? Sweeten his cock and balls with ten bucks, and he winked at you?" "Yeah, that and I had a drink with him later on. So, what's your point, Kev?" Tom states. "All I've seen over the past few years is you working your ass off. Before your cubeboy, you haven't seriously dated a man. You're a workaholic. You get here before opening and stick around til closing most of the time. Your mind is like a calculator, always worried about beating yesterday's figures. It's all you talk about. Work-work-work... What man wants to compete with a man married to his job?" "I don't know how we got on this subject, but you're way out of line here, Kev." "Am I? Think about it, Tom. I love John and I'm not going to wait around to find a place to fit him into my life, around everything else. I'm going to build my life around us." Then, excusing himself, "It's time for me to go." Tom's body turned, his eyes keenly following his brother, bursting open the double doors, making his exit. Taking another Dr. Pepper, he turned to the desk, staring at it. The `beat yesterday' file open on the computer, right there in front of him, trying to cheer himself up, talking outloud to the dollars and cents, "Hah! Married to you!" Hitting a button on the monitor, he turned it off, seeing his reflection in the dark screen. He then thought about everything Kevin said, especially the part about the cubeboy. He failed miserably at trying to convince his brother there was one man in his life to care about him. Inadvertently, he began convincing himself Kevin voiced the truth. % "This where you live?" Juan asked, looking out the front dashboard at a house, with roofs resembling mountain peaks. "This is the place," Riley tells him, getting out of the patrol car. He tells Juan, still sitting, "It's unlocked." Emerging, Juan asks, "What's in the barn?" "Some horses and a rooster who can't keep his mouth shut in the morning!" Turning to Riley, Juan turned his lips up a little in a gesture to smile. "Do you ride?" "Mostly on the weekends," Riley says, switching his thoughts from something of a wisecrack, to the `other' meaning, "Want to take a look?" "Sure," Juan says. Heading off to the barn, Riley pulls open half of the big square doors. They enter. "Sure smells like a barn." "And how would you know a fact such as that?" "Part of the equation for the information you're trying to get out of me," Juan says. "Hmm," Riley says, assessing the situation. "So, I take it you know about horses?" "I've ridden one a few times," Juan replies, gently petting one of the horses coat of soft hair, randomly singled out. "Tucker there... he isn't too good with strangers," Riley points out, about the horse he's pampering. "Sometimes it only takes some TLC to make a friend." "Want to take him out for a ride?" "Would be great, but I'm not really dressed for it," Juan replies, looking down upon himself, a WRCC team jacket, a red and navy speedo still clinging to his bod, from the place in time where he was cuffed. "I've got some duds up at the house. Might be a bit large for you." Out of the barn the two walk, up to the porch of the house. Entering, Juan's eyes look high and low, from east to west, taking in the interiors. "Nice fireplace," he says, standing in front of it, glancing up, as the flagstone pattern rises with the contour of the cathedral ceiling. "Thanks. Want a beer?" "No thanks. If I'm going to ride a horse, well, it's like riding a car. Drinking and driving?" "Oh," Riley says, agreeing, "I guess you're right. Water?" "Sure. That will be fine." Vacating the room, Juan looks over all the little cool knick-knacks setting about. Unzipping his WRCC swim hoodie, he strips it off, clenching it in one hand. He experiences a shiver from only having a tank top on, resulting in goosebumps forming on his skin, his nips hardening up, peaks causing the WRCC-licensed top to stretch tighter over his pecs. "Here we go," Riley says, "I hope you don't mind the bottle?" "Fine with me. So, where are those clothes?" Walking around the sofa, Riley's index finger, wiggling like a worm, lures Juan into following him. Across the room, they take a flight of stairs to the second floor, walking along a balcony. "This place is really cool," Juan says, looking over the railing, down into the room he was just in. As he follows Riley into the bedroom, he says, "Wow! You call this a bedroom?" "Like it?" "It sure is roomy!" Not even asking, Juan drops his ass on the bed, his hands pinching the mattress as if testing for a ripe melon. "Firm," he describes it. "Here," Riley says, tossing Juan a flannel shirt, which falls over his head. "Hey!" Juan complains, uncovering his head, a hand readjusting his chic-styled hair. Right after, Riley tosses a pair of jeans. "You might have to roll them up." "Maybe. How tall are you?" Juan asks, pulling his tank top off over his head. "Six foot-one. You?" "Five-ten." Riley watched as the swim jock fed his hands into the sleeves of the shirt. The cuffs more than covered his hands. He pulled on the sleeves, hiking the cuffs up to his elbows. When he stood to slide the speedo off his ass, the shirt sleeves unraveled. Since his hands were already attached to the swimsuit, he peeled them off anyway. "There's gotta be a better way," he thought. So, he stripped off the shirt, then put on the jeans. "Not much different," Juan said, hiking the waist of the jeans halfway up his stomach. covering his treasure trail and navel. When Riley stepped out of the walk-in closet to assess the outfit, Juan stood there, as if in shock. "Damn, you're gorgeous!" Standing there, Riley grinned, rubbing one of his hands over his dark, hairy chest, down his hairy trail, then tucking his thumb in at the hip of his jeans. Juan almost tripped, walking over to Riley. "Can I... touch it?" Not answering, Riley tilted his chin down, watching Juan walk over to him, hand extended. Making contact, Juan felt up the curly hair, midchest. His mouth dropped open, closing his eyes, sighing, as if somebody was feeling him up. "This feels soooooo nice." Hands on both hips, Riley stood there, letting Juan get playful with his body fur. His head dropped back, sighing when Juan leaned in, his lips zeroing in on his left pec, cupping around his nip. As the sucking action continued, Riley's hand found it's way to the back of Juan's head. Gently he stroked the latino's fine mane, as if petting one of his horses. The wonderful moment came to a halt when Riley felt Juan's hands trying to unbutton his jeans. Stopping him, Riley's hands gripped Juan's wrists. "Don't you want a blow job now?" Juan asked, looking up three inches to Riley's face. "A bit eager, aren't you Juan?" Shrugging his shoulders, he replied, "I like giving head." "I had a feeling you did." Grabbing a flannel shirt, Riley pulled on it, letting the hanger seesaw over the bar. "C'mon. Let's go for that ride before the sun goes down." % "I've got to go," Jose informed Denis. "Thanks for stopping in," Denis said, a little smile on his lips. "I'm not on duty tomorrow, so I can come by here right after school, if it's okay?" "Sure it's okay, as long as you don't have anything better to do." "Nope," the seventeen year old replied. "That is if I can finish my homework in study hall. I have it the last period of the day." "I love it when that happens. Way back in September I had study hall last period. I was able to get early release, but for the second half of the school year I got stuck with a lab." "You don't like science either?" "Don't get me wrong. Science is one of my stronger subjects. I might want to major in a field of science." "Cool! I thought about geology myself." "Really now?" Denis said, eyes lighting up. "I collected rocks a lot when I was a kid." "I still do," Jose informed him. "Listen, I have to get home. It's the only time I see my dad before he goes off to his second job. I'll see you tomorrow." "Cool," Denis replied. Almost as soon as Jose vanished, the four walls closed in on him, the ceiling becoming his past time again. The late afternoon sun shone through the window, it's power like a magnet, wooing Denis out of bed and over to the window. Grabbing the string, he elevated the blind til he could take in the view of the parking lot, evergreens and the hills in the distance. When he saw Jose weave through the cars, Denis knocked on the glass. However, being above ground level, he was beyond Jose's range of hearing. He smiled, recalling a lot of things Jose mentioned during their conversation. Then he saw Jose stop at one of the cars, seemingly centered in the lot. The driver side opened. He watched as Jose approached the male driver, leaning over the door, kissing him. "You're gay?" Denis thought out loud. Almost immediately, Jose rushed around to the other side, climbed in and they were off. "Hellooooo! Anybody home?" "Just me," Denis said, turning around, seeing Aunt Bernice standing there, with her small entourage. "Good to see you out of bed, son," Steve said, walking up to Denis, throwing his arms around him before Bernice got a hold of him! "Hi Alberto," Denis said over Bernice's shoulder, shaking his hand, underneath Bernice's elbow. Almost immediately, Bernice said they needed to visit a friend, her saying, "We'll leave you to visit with your dad." Even though Denis was happy to see his dad, Bernice and Alberto, he questioned, "Have you seen Mark yet?" "Matter of fact, we came right from there," Steve told him. "And?" Denis asked, inhaling a deep breath. His father smiling, parking his butt on the end of the bed, arms folded across his chest, Denis could tell good news was forthcoming. "His eyes were open. As soon as he saw me, he asked for you." Steve figured this would raise Denis' spirits, having him dancing with elation. However, the eighteen year old put both hands to his face, his shoulders crumbling, exhaling as he broke into all out crying. Hopping off the bed, Steve's left shoulder caught his head, pressing into his chest, as he threw his arms around his son, consoling him. His dad ran his hands up and down Denis' back, calming him as if he was a baby, cooing, "Shhh, now. You should be happy about Mark." Backing away a little, Denis said, "I know... but..." "I hope you're not still blaming yourself for what happened?" "Barry told you?" the youth asked about his other dad, wiping his eyes with his forearm. Reaching in his pocket, Steve pulls out a handkerchief, confiding in his son, "We don't keep anything from each other." "I suppose," Denis replied, using the cloth to wipe his snot, instead of his dad's shirt. "Did Dr. Roberts stop by today?" His dad inquired. Shaking his head gave his dad the negative answer. "Well the day is not over. I'm sure you will be seeing him." "Do I have to?" Denis asks. "You want to get well, don't you?" Denis nodded, replying, "Yeah." "Your father and I agreed it would be best for you to get some professional help." "What do I say to Dr. Roberts?" "Everything and anything. Tell him as much as you him want to know. Mainly I think you should have a discussion with him about your relationship with Mark. Unload your mind of anything that's bothering you." "Do I have to tell him Mark and I slept together in the same bed? That we had sex together?" "Two things. One, whatever you say to Dr. Roberts stays confidential... between you and he. As a trained psychiatrist he's sworn to an oath of privacy. The other thing is, in order for him to treat you, he has to know everything about you, which I would say includes the truth about you and your brother." With his head falling, as if he's looking at his father's stomach, Denis says, "Mark and I looked up some stuff on the internet." "And?" "We found out that two brothers having sex can get us into trouble," Denis replied, looking to his dad's face for guidance. "I'm not going to refute your claim. I'm not up on my law, but as I said, Dr. Roberts will keep anything you say confidential." "Even from the cops?" "As I understand it, the only way the police can find out, is if they subpoena Dr. Roberts' notes on you." "I don't know if I want to take that chance. Forget me, but look at it this way, Mark is in on this too!" Steve smiled, saying, "You really think a lot of your brother, don't you?" "We're both each other's best friend and...." "And what, son?" "Even though it might not be right, we both think it was okay to try out some sex stuff. I mean, isn't it better we did it with each other, then say, one of our buds?" "I'm not sure how to answer that," Steve thought, wondering why he left home without his partner. "What's done is done. I think the important thing is to get Mark and you well so you are already to attend college in the fall." A thought stuck in his head from moments ago, Denis saying, "I want to major in geology." Taken aback, Steve stretches his head back, refocusing his attention, saying, "What brought this on?" With the wandering away from the subject matter of mental health, Steve sits back down on the bed. Denis sits back in the tangle of sheets, indian style. "I was talking about it with Jose and felt maybe like it was for me." "Who's Jose?" "Jose Vega. He's this great guy who works at the hospital for community service or something like that. He's a junior at school. Really down to earth. Not like a lot of guys for his grade." Steve folded his arms across his chest and let Denis take off on a tangent. "We talked about a lot of stuff. He's real smart and offered to help me with my math." "That's awfully nice of him," Steve commented. "He also knows a lot about science and said he wants to maybe take up geology when he gets into college." "No doubt there's an interest, with the Pacific Northwest rich in geological history," Steve supplements the endeavors. "Remember when us guys were younger? When Aidan was a baby, how we used to go on hikes and collect rocks?" "I remember," Steve takes a mental flashback, almost feeling the carrier on his back, whereas Aidan received a free ride. "Remember when Sean got lost and we couldn't find him for an hour?" It was a scary thought, but nonetheless a memory. "I'll never forget it!" Now they could laugh about it! As Denis leaned back, his elbows leaned into the bed, propping his bod up. As if in a time machine, his thoughts of the present returned. "What?" Barry asked, as if Denis was backsliding into negative thought. "I can't even imagine what life would be like if Mark's family never moved out here," Denis replied. "A few times I've wondered the same, myself," Steve replied, smiling. "Tell me something, dad. Did it take you awhile to fall in love?" As clear as if it was yesterday and not two years past, Steve pictures in his mind jogging down Bridges Lane, seeing Bernice in the distance, her client at her side. With the next detail coming to mind, he replied, "No, son. As a matter of fact, when I came down the road, seeing your Aunt Bernice standing there with her client, something `clicked' inside of me..." "Gaydar?" "Could've been, but I'll leave the explanation up to a higher power. Anyway, when I saw your dad standing there, I could swear it was love at first sight." "Well what would have happened if it turned out he wasn't gay?" Exhaling, as if relieved, Steve replies, "I think it would have been the saddest day of my life." "How come? It's not like you dated him forever, before you found out." "I suppose it was a combination of a lot of things." "The `bear' thing?" Denis said, for the second time cracking a little smile. "How did you know about that?" Steve said, squinting his eyes, as he stare at his son. "Sorry, but I came to your room one night to ask you something and heard you and Barry through the door, getting it on. I heard your nickname for him!" It made Steve giggle, even though Denis was all apologetic. "I can't deny, when I first laid eyes on your father, I wasn't thinking about it," Steve confessed. "I think it's kind of cool how dad's sons are about the same age as us, except for Sean. Too bad Matty met Chad before Sean got a chance." "Don't you think Sean did alright, hooking up with Jacques?" "Yeah. I think they make a cool pair," Denis said, lightheartedly, adding, "even though we hardly see Sean anymore." "He's busy with college. Remember Sean wasn't always great at getting good grades." "He used to get a lot of D's," Denis recalled. "Right. He hasn't had the advantage of getting decent grades, like you other boys." "Except in math," Denis reminds his father, bringing up old skeletons. "You were doing well before you started cutting class to be on the swim team, weren't you?" "I was pulling a B. I guess that's decent. But with the cutting, not only did I fall behind, but Mr. Hanson was out gunning for me." "Oh now, you can't go blaming your failures on someone else. I've known Mr. Hanson for numerous years. We both received tenure at the same time. He's really a very nice person. Reporting you for cutting is the same thing I would do for a student who misses three classes. I don't think it was his intentions to single you out. Think of it this way, he gave you some slack by informing me first?" "I suppose." "Your father informed me you never bothered to hand in the note you composed." Shrugging his shoulders, Denis replies, "I didn't think it mattered, after I flunked the math test." Seeing Denis falling fast, back into the pit of depression, Steve consoles, "Whatever was done, is done. The important thing is you feel better about yourself and get back on your feet." "Do you think you could talk to Mr. Hanson? You know... tell him what happened?" "I already have," his father reports. "When I mentioned I was coming to see you, he sent his regards, wishing you a speedy recovery and hopes you will be returning to school soon." "He said that?" "I told you. Mr. Hanson is not the enemy. He's a very nice man who was only doing his job." "So he's cool with the cuts?" Denis feels his dad out. "He never filed the report, but he made it known he wants to talk to you." Denis figured he would be getting a lecture, but since Hanson hadn't turned him in for cutting, he could bear to stand there and take the grief. "Evening," came the soft, male voice, as the door opened, a head sticking in. "Alright if I come in?" Standing, Steve recognized the police office from yesterday. "Certainly you may, officer...." He didn't complete the phrase, forgetting the cop's name. Offering his hand to Steve, he refreshed his memory, "Darryl Tudyk." As they greeted each other, Steve noticed how the officer acknowledged him, but then glanced over his shoulder. "You look different," Denis immediately noticed. "I'm not on duty," Darryl replied. "Well, I've got to be going," Steve announces, looking at his watch. Before he left, he hugged Denis and for the umpteenth time, reassured him things would go well. "Thanks for coming, dad," Denis called out, as Steve's hand pulled on the door latch, smiling as he passed through the square archway. "Nice shirt," Denis started out with. Looking down at his chest, Darryl replied, "Thanks," with a wry smile. "Do I get to keep this one?" Denis asked of the identical shirt clinging to his bod. "Sure. We've got dozens back at the station." A lull occured whereas Darryl stood there, his shirt tucked into his jeans, his hands folded behind his back, which contorted his body so that his shirt drew right down over his pecs, his nips showing through the fabric like the tops of two mountain peaks. Denis figured he better say something quick before Darryl knew he was checking him out. "So you're a rookie, huh?" "Yeah. Everybody has to start at the bottom of the totem pole," Darryl replied. "Um, mind if I take a seat?" "Nope. Help yourself." Proceeding to one of the chairs in the room, the twenty-four year old officer sits. Being the hospital bed was higher and Denis was reclining, he swung his feet over the side, sitting up. "Aren't you supposed to be lying down?" "What's wrong with me is in my head," Denis said, adding a little smile. "Depression?" Darryl hinted. "I don't know. My dad says Dr. Roberts is supposed to stop by and test me for an evaluation. He hasn't shown yet, but my dad assures me he will, before the end of the night. Um... so... ah, what do you like to do besides run around chasing the bad guys?" After a short laugh, Darryl replies, "Relax, go to the movies, read... when I lived in Cali, I did some surfing..." "Cool! You surf?" "I'd like to think of myself as being more than a novice, but it seems I spent more time paddling a board than standing on top of it!" "I imagine that's how come you have such a tight build?" After he said it, Denis knew he must've revealed the thought of checking Darryl out. Sitting up straight, gazing down upon himself, Darryl, hands on his thighs, removes his right hand and pats his stomach, saying, "I could lose a few pounds." "You're kidding, right?" "Not really." Denis had some serious twitching going on when Darryl took hold of his own shirt, tugging on it, tearing it out of his jeans, revealing the wrinkle in his stomach, a tight trail splitting his abs. "You must do a lot of crunches." Dropping his tee shirt, he replies, "I try to get in three or four days a week at the gym. It's a shame they don't have a pool. I miss the cross-training." "Are you a triathlete?" "I suppose if you count the surfing, I could qualify." It's the first time in a long time Denis felt like laughing. His head glancing to the window, Darryl pushes up on the arms of the chair, saying as he rises up, "Will you look at that?" "What?" Denis quizzes him, watching him go to the window. "The one thing, since I've moved here that rivals Coronado Beach!" Placing his hands next to each thigh, Denis hops off the bed, walking over to the window, following Darryl's lead. "What are you looking at, Darryl?" "It's magnificent, `el cielo baja, los arboles ascienden, el espacio solo es luz y sylencio, solo espacio abierto para el aguila del ojo, pasa la blance tribu de las nubes...'" he quotes to Denis. "You know Spanish?" "Some. It's getting to be a way of life in Cali, these days. But it was part of a poem I was quoting," Darryl clues Denis in. Standing next to Darryl, Denis asks, "What does it mean?" " `The sky comes down, trees rise, space becomes nothing but light and silence, open space for the eagle of the eye, the white tribe of clouds goes by'..." Ending his dissertation, Darryl just stands there, smiling, as the evening sun courses in the window, making his face and arms seem more red than they are. "In school we read some poetry," Denis tells him, staring out the window, admiring the sunset, the after affects of Darryl's words hanging in his mind. "It's a whole different world, like music and art." "What kind of music do you like?" Shifting position, Darryl leaned against his back against the wall, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans, his thumbs on the outside. "Oh, I go with most everything; classical, jazz, some rock... I don't go much for rap, though I recognize it as an art form." "That's deep," Denis replies. "I kind of like the sound of Maroon 5. Have you heard of them?" "Have I heard of them? What teen hasn't! Adam Levine is so damn hot!" After he said it, Denis wondered how Darryl perceived the remark. "I mean he's real cool." A toothless grin on his face, Darryl looked at Denis. He already had him pegged and rather than having Denis sweat it out, he said, "I think you're cool!" His smile opened up, showing his perfectly straight, white teeth. Blushing, Denis said, "Well thanks," shooting his glance to the floor. "In fact I think you're more than cool." "What was that?" "Nothing," Darryl says, shooing the thought away with his hand, thinking he went too far. At first Denis didn't know what to think of it, this twenty-four year old police officer saying things like that about him. One thing he did know is, he had to sit down before Darryl noticed his shaft, in transformation mode. Back at the bed, he sat down, placing the sheet over his lap. As for Darryl, he had a strong desire not to hold back his feelings, so he dropped a subtle hint, saying, "I think Adam Levine is kind of hot, too!" % Copyright 2007 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.