Date: Fri, 13 Apr 2007 14:36:15 -0700 (PDT) From: T. Chase McPhee Subject: 5b & 6c 01 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. % "5b & 6c" 01 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee % "What the hell? Not again!" Twenty-two year old Thomas Ladner went off the deep end, complaining about the `boom-boom-booms' coming through the floor of apartment 6c. For the third night in a row he's put up with `the noise' from the floor above his. There's only so much a man can stand! Getting up from his chair, he carefully placed his flute on the table. If he was going to lodge a complaint, for sure he wasn't going to show up in his tank top and shorts. "More trouble than it's worth", he complained to himself. However, if he was going to resolve this issue, he had to nip it in the bud, while the music was playing. In his bedroom, he stripped off his tank top, pulling on a tee shirt; the one reading across the chest, `Lake Quinn Symphony', continuing on his belly,`Summer Camp'. He thought at least it covered his biceps. Next, he shucked his shorts and threw on a pair of jeans. Over his bare feet he placed a pair of sandals. "Nothing wrong with my feet!" He actually formed a sliver of a smile on his face, remembering a counselor this past summer, with compliments, saying he had `nice feet'! Sitting on his bed, he stopped for a moment to reminisce. His smile turned into a grin. Here, Peter Lee, a counselor of seventeen, tried seducing him with his compliments. Good thing he didn't fall for Peter's lines, since he wasn't into having relationships with guys younger than himself. Suddenly one `boom' broke Thomas out of his reverie, like a big bass drum next to his ear. Time to put memories aside. For whatever reason, he seemed to lose some of the `fire', bottled up inside, however he wasn't about to let this issue go to waste. Getting up, he grabbed his keys, locked his apartment door and headed upstairs. At the top of the stairs, he ventured forth, looking for apartment 6b, the one directly above his own. Funny thing, as he scratched his head, 6b was at the far side of the hallway. The same `boom-booms' came from 6c. "Hmm... and the same loud music is coming from 6c." He put two and two together. The `boom-booms' and 6c, which is positioned above 5b, in perspective. "Here goes," he thought out loud. At first he knocked on the door subtly, but why he heard the music pounding out loud, he applied the same force with his fist. Nobody answered. He waited, knockin between rests in the sound of the music. The booming bass persisted. "Oh, hi! I thought I heard someone knocking when I changed the cue on the CD." As with seventeen year old Peter Lee, Thomas stood there `looking'. "Wait! Let me turn this down," the stranger, in only a speedo-like pair of shorts responded. Thomas watched as he ran into the other room and reappeared, pulling a tee shirt on, obviously having a difficult time at it, from his bod, dripping with sweat. "Would you mind?" Turning around, Thomas helped pull the tee shirt down in the back. At the same time, something tingled in his loins when he saw the small amount of brown hair, sweaty and plastered against the small of his neighbor's back. "There. At least I look more presentable," he said. `Presentable?' Thomas thought. `I'm not complaining!' the corners of his lips engaging in a smirk. "C'mon in." "I can't stay. I'm practicing." "I thought I heard a flute, `singing' downstairs. You're good, you know?" "I hope so." "Dah," the guy said, after staring at Thomas' shirt, "like I can't read? Not too cordial, either, am I?" Taking Thomas' hand, he offers, "I'm Gino. Gino Travaglione." "Nice to meet you," which weren't the words formulating in Thomas' brain, as he climbed the flight of stairs. However, Gino was being so nice (and handsome!), how could he not be polite? "Thomas Ladner," he offered back. "C'mon in. Care for a drink, Tom? Tom is alright to call you, isn't it? Or do you prefer Thomas?" "Well, generally, in the public sector, people tend to lean towards Thomas, but in my private life, friends call me Tom. You can call me by either one." "I suppose since I really don't know you well, it probably should be Thomas or Mr. Ladner?" "Okay, Mr. Travaglee... sorry `bout that." "Travaglione and yeah, it's pronounced really `Italian'. My folks have a restaurant back home, `Travalione's'. People sometimes drop the `e' and add an `i', but the `rents never complain. How about that drink?" "It's kind of early for spirits," Tom says, coming in, having Gino close the door behind him. "I'll have a water, if you have it?" "No problem. One of my staples, actually." Following the layout of the apartment, same as his, they wound up in the kitchen. "Excuse me for my inappropriate laziness. You being the new guy here, I should've come down to meet you when I returned from vacation." "Oh, so that's why I didn't hear... never mind," Tom started to voice his opinion. "I forget about that," Gino refers to the music, "I forget I have others to think about." And, in Gino's mind, he would be thinking a lot about Tom from now on; the blond hair, flashy blue eyes; just dazzling! "By the way, how is it I'm apartment 5b and you're right above me, as 6c? Any clue?" "I'm not sure of the answer. I haven't been here all that long myself, other than probably some workman was drunk and started at the wrong end of the hallway." "Logical reason, I suppose." "About the music, I'll try to keep it down. I'm trying to work on a new routine." "Oh, are you a dancer?" "Yes, but.... Yes, I'm studying dance at Lake Quinn Community College. But, it doesn't pay the big bucks yet, so I dance Friday and Saturday nights, as `cubeboy' at the local..." he almost slipped and said `gay', "club." "Nothing wrong with it. When I was in college, I played a lot of 'easy rock' gigs. It paid the bills." "So," Gino asks, handing Tom a second water, "excuse my forwardness, but what pays the bills for you?" "Well, I mentioned I play flute for the Lake Quinn Symphony. I was commuting up until this past week. Starting this week, I will be on the faculty of Lake Quinn Community College, teaching flute." "Young," was Gino's first comment, looking the blond over. "How old do you think I am?" In reality Gino thought a year older than himself, but replied, "My age?" "Now, I'm not sure how old you are... nineteen or twenty, but I've already seen `your days'. I'm twenty-four." "Oh wow. And I thought, at the most, twenty-one. By the way, I'm twenty." Right then and there, in Thomas' mind he judged Gino too young, but his conscience told him, don't judge the book by it's cover! "Twenty is," Tom didn't know how to answer, saying, "young." "Sure is, but twenty-four is by no means old. Eighty. Now that's old. But, y'know I've got a grandmother who is eighty-two and she still works around the restaurant like she's twenty years younger!" "Is that so?" "Yup." There was a lull, as if both ran out of conversational material. "Well, thanks for the water. I've still got another hour of flute practice." Gino says, "I'd like to hear you sometime." "That's easy," jokes Tom, "just turn down the `boom-booms'?" "I will. Say, would you like to get a bite to eat?" `Is this a date'? Tom thought of the proposal. Being he was going to be on the faculty of a college Gino attended as a student, he wasn't sure. Not being sure, he resorted to, "I'll have to take a raincheck, thanks." "Well... okay..." Seeing Tom to the door, Gino says, "Nice to meet you," bidding him farewell. Closing the door behind himself, Gino says to himself, "I'm in love!" % Copyright 2007 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author. % Other stories by T. 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