Jack Scribe

This multipart story is primarily about romance and relationships between men. Any reference to actual persons, living or dead, is only to enhance the fictional nature of the story and does not suggest a particular sexual orientation. If you are offended by graphic descriptions of homosexual sex, what the hell are you doing here? Bye, bye.

Special acknowledgements to Drew and Brad for providing diligent proofing and editing of the story.

If you have any comments or suggestions for the author, feel free to write me at I love feedback and communication with readers. Support Nifty!



From Chapter 3:

"Hey, babe. Right on time." Dex stepped aside and waited for Kyle to enter. "I'll take the wine bottle as soon as I offer an official welcome."

"Buddy, before an official welcome, I think we need to talk," Kyle said, pulling back.

"Talk? What about?" Dex appeared baffled as he took the bottle of wine and walked into the kitchen.

"Something tells me that there's a part of Dexter Tate that you're covering up and we need to clear the air if a relationship is going to continue. I've been an open book; I can't say the same thing about you." Kyle looked at Dex with a mixture of confusion and irritation.

"Um, I'm glad I haven't started the spaghetti yet." Dex's eyes darted around the room and focused on the floor before he turned off the flame under the water pot.

"Where there's smoke, there's fire?" Kyle asked as irritation ratcheted up to controlled anger.

Slowly, Dex brought his eyes up to look at Kyle. "I think we both need a drink and I'll tell you some stuff that can't go beyond these walls. Okay?"

"Trust is a two-way street. I'll decide whether I can trust you after you say what you want to say." Kyle leaned against the doorway and looked ruminatively at Dex.


"Two fingers."


Chapter 4:

Dex grabbed two rocks glasses, poured a generous portion of Dewar's White Label into each and, as requested, did not add ice to Kyle's drink. With cocktail napkins in tow, he looked down at the floor and silently shook his head.

"Let's go into the living room," Dex said, carrying in the two glasses. He motioned Kyle to sit down on the couch as he sat down in an over-stuffed easy chair. 'I hope I'm right in trusting this guy with what I'm going to tell him,' he thought, while studying his upset guest. Dex slowly arranged the glasses on the napkins to gain a little more time.

"I'd say 'cheers' but it hardly seems appropriate," Kyle grabbed the scotch and rushed the glass to his mouth. Within a few seconds he downed half of the amber liquid from the bogs of Scotland.

"Want me to top it off?" asked Dex, suspiciously. He slowly took a small sip and returned the glass to the napkin. 'Man, that's a lot of high-octane he tossed down.'

"We'll see." Kyle placed the glass directly on the coffee table and looked at Dex. "What the fuck is going on, Mr. Tate? Or, is that your real name?"

"Listen, Kyle, I'm really baffled about your actions. What have I done to create such a foul mood?" Dex shifted slightly in his chair and stared at Kyle before taking a small sip. 'Might as well go into damage-control mode,' he decided, 'and see what he knows.'

"Just adding two and two, I come up with five. You tipped your hat when you were in the crowd outside the office building behind the reporter. When I called you - I was thrilled to see you on the TV, by the way - you gave me information that no one could know. You knew exactly what was going you're a spy or something."

"Um, yeah, I guess I was a little too explicit today. Would you believe me if I said that I wanted to help the congresswoman and your team get a little ahead of the shit that was happening?"

"I considered that and, yes, what you told me did help our strategy. She's an honorable and clean politician, Dex. I still wanna know where you got that info 'cause who or what you are doesn't add up." Kyle seemed to be moving back to a confused state as the anger took a back seat. "I thought you might be someone that I wanted to let into my life. At this point, I'm just not sure."

"Buddy, I know I want you in my life," Dex replied. He got up from his chair and joined Kyle on the couch. "I guess it's truth time." He put his hand on Kyle's shoulder and held it there for a moment before Kyle shifted away.

"Truth time? Okay, I'm listening but it'd better be good."

"I, ah, really have two jobs. The one at Biggs and Dasch is just a front for my real work...with the F.B.I. That's it, babe, in a nutshell and this is very classified. So yeah, trust is a two-way street. I'm working undercover for the good guys." Dex took a deep breath, leaned back into the over-stuffed cushions and looked at the ceiling.

"That must mean that you are involved in the Abraham mess?"

"I can't say anything about any specifics of what I do. I'm taking a big risk telling you what I just said." Dex turned to Kyle and reached out his hand.

"Ah, I appreciate what you're saying and, um, I think you know I won't say anything to anyone. But ya gotta clear up something else that came to my mind." Kyle took Dex's hand and held it.

"Try me. I want everything straight between us." Dex smiled when he considered the double entendre he had just uttered.

"Yeah, straight my ass," Kyle replied with a shrug. "Seriously, did we just meet accidentally at JR's the other night? After what you just said, I remember our dinner and the not-so-subtle game of  '20 questions' that we were playing. Come to think of it, I was spilling my guts to you."

"Ya got me. I admit I was on assignment." Dex was a little shaken when Kyle suddenly withdrew his hand.

"So I was just something you were going to use to get to Mandy? Jeez, I was just a piece of ass to manipulate." Kyle grabbed his glass and tossed down the rest of the scotch. "Okay, Tate. Spill the rest," he said in a defiant tone.

"Dude, I'll spill it if you'll just hear me out." Dex drained his glass and continued, "I think we could both use refills." He got up, grabbed the scotch and poured out two generous portions.

"This better be good." Kyle watched carefully as Dex joined him on the couch.

"Shit, where do I start?"

"Maybe your name, to begin with."

"Actually that's the easy part. It is Dexter Benjamin Tate. No esquire, no junior...nothing special. Dex Tate has been my name since grade school in Westport, Connecticut. Well, except when my Mom was pissed. Whenever she used my full name, I knew I was in deep doo-doo."  Dex decided to try and lighten up the atmosphere with a little homespun background. 'Whew,' he thought, watching Kyle's softening expression, 'I think that he's chillin' out.'

"Okay, I'm with you so far. You are a lawyer? That's for real?" Kyle did seem to relax a little further and his posture slumped a little. He eased back against the corner of the couch and rested his arm on the top of a large, decorative pillow.

"For real. Georgetown, class of 2001. The Bureau generally only considers young lawyers when they are hiring. I guess I fell for the intrigue and excitement like you see in movies. Fact is, being an F.B.I. agent can be pretty boring. Well, boring until I met you." Dex turned on his best 'I wanna be more than friends' smile and aimed it at Kyle like a laser ray.

"You're not out of the doghouse yet. Continue." Kyle reached for his glass and, this time, took only a small swig of scotch.

Dex decided to follow the lead and sipped from his glass before he continued, "Congresswoman Burke was on our radar screen after the Abraham-funded money turned up in her campaign account. Basically my assignment was to get close to one of her associates and find out what I could. Let me add that after we had our conversation, I gave her a clean bill of health."

"You used me, Dex. I don't feel very good about that."

"It was a fucking assignment. I didn't plan on getting involved or having special feelings for you. I do, ya know...have special feelings. I want to put this behind us and move forward. You think that's possible?"

"When did these special feelings happen? I wanna know how this Dex Tate guy thinks," Kyle replied. "Give me some reasons to believe you."

"Cards on the table. You really rang my chimes when we first met. But until I could figure out if there was anything in my investigation, the policy was 'hands off'. I guess half way through our dinner I came to the realization that your office was clean and that I wanted to get personally involved with you. I still do, Kyle. In fact, I'm planning on quitting my job with the Bureau as soon as I find a new position."

"Quitting? On account of me?" Kyle looked at Dex with an expression of surprise.

"Well, yeah, I consider you to hopefully be part of this, um, my future. The fact is the F.B.I. isn't exactly gay friendly. I'm in the closet and my immediate supervisor is a real homophobe. And now you have entered my life," Dex said softly. He reached over and again took Kyle's hand in his. This time the hand was not rejected.

"You really know how to diffuse a situation," Kyle replied. He moved over to Dex and swung his free arm around Dex's shoulders. "I came over here tonight confused and pissed. I'm still a little confused but I really want to figure out how we're going to get to know each other better."

"That's the best thing I've heard tonight. I'm ready to make several major changes in my life. And the career is just part of it." Dex leaned in and nibbled lightly on Kyle's earlobe. "You are a big part of the equation." He moved closer, squeezed Kyle's hand harder and moved his lips over to Kyle's face. "SWAK, my friend.."

"I haven't heard that since I was in 7th grade," Kyle said with a chuckle. "But I'll definitely seal this with a kiss." He joined his mouth and allowed Dex's tongue to enter. Tongues curled, breathing became more pronounced and saliva drooled as the two men ratcheted up the action.

"Oh, fuck, babe...ahhh," Dex moaned while he pulled Kyle into a bone-crushing embrace. He pulled away and started a series of kisses that touched every part of Kyle's face: cheeks, eyes and forehead. He started to unbutton the shirt.

"Babe, this is a helluva antipasto, but before I flip up my legs for you, we've got some talking to do. There are several blanks that need to be filled in and you can do that over dinner. Trust is a two-way street. I want to trust you but these revelations have been a pretty big jolt." Kyle looked into the depth of Dex's eyes with a sincere but determined look.

"Yeah, I want to left nothing unsaid tonight." Dex returned Kyle's stare and held it for a moment. "Guess I better turn the water back on if we're going to have spaghetti. You want some more scotch?" Dex asked while untangling himself from his guest.

"Naw, I think I'll quit while I'm ahead. Maybe some water now and the wine with dinner." Kyle looked at Dex and softly smiled as his head tilted with a shrug. "Can I help?"

"Absolutely. We can talk while I cook." Dex stood and offered his hands for an assist to help Kyle from the couch. "We gotta figure out how an almost ex-F.B.I. guy and a hunky press dude are going to go forward.


Phil hadn't dressed down for a while and debated whether he should be wearing jeans to Cobalt. He figured, 'What the hell,' as he eased into his favorite pair of Lucky's. A light crew sweater won out over a rugby shirt. 'Got to be a little age-appropriate,' Phil decided, not wanting to look silly.

The Tuesday night crowd was in full swing when he arrived. After looking around the fairly quiet first floor lounge, Phil walked upstairs to the dance area. A Marvin Gaye song had just finished and the DJ immediately swung into Donna Summers' She Works Hard For Her Money. The boys were definitely in a dancing mood, Phil observed as he arrived at the bar and ordered a cosmo. He smiled when he considered that the range of 'boys' started in the early-20's and meandered up to some hot looking 40 year olds. 'I'm not such a dinosaur, after all," he considered.

At the opposite end of the bar he spotted MacDonald Price laughing and talking to a couple of guys. Phil, using his technique of initiating contact, intently stared at Mac Price. Within moments, Mac turned in Phil's direction to identify the origin of the human laser. Phil nodded and raised his cocktail glass in a visual toast. Mac acknowledged the toast and returned to conversing with his friends. Phil turned his back to the bar, leaned against the ledge and watched the gyrations on the dance floor. He was mindful that Mac was approaching him but continued to observe the dancers.

"Hi, you're a new face in here," Mac said when he stopped next to Phil. MacDonald Price was a young man who projected confidence without being arrogant.

"Hey, yourself," Phil said, turning to Mac. "Yep, you're right. A friend I work with told me about this place and I thought I'd check it out. I normally don't go out to many bars but I was working late tonight and decided to stop in. I'm Phil, by the way."

"I'm Mac and I usually stop in here on Tuesday night. Cheap martinis and some fun music have made this a weekly tradition for some of my friends and me."

"Speaking of that, can I buy you a martini? I figure a buck won't break me," Phil said with a laugh. 'This guy is smooth, has a great personality and comes on without being pushy,' he thought.

"Sounds like a deal." Mac started to keep beat with his body as Martha Reeves and the Vandellas' Heat Wave was cranked up through the speakers.

The bartender took Phil's order and had the martini in a chilled stem glass within moments. Phil pushed a couple of bucks towards the bartender, took the filled glass and gave it to Mac. They both raised their glasses and clinked the edges lightly before taking sips. "You wanna dance?" Phil asked. "I figure I can't get into too much trouble on the dance floor with a seasoned regular like you."

"Yeah, I'd like that. Give me a sec so I can let the guys know that I'm with you." Mac walked over to his two buddies, pointed out Phil and said something. He answered with a shrug to an obvious question from one of his friends. Mac waved and returned to Phil. "Okay, Phil, let's dance."

For the next half-hour, Phil and Mac rotated between dancing and taking a breather at the bar. They both had another drink and became more comfortable with each other.

"You said you came here from work. If you don't mind me asking, what do you do?" Mac asked. The D.J. slowed down the action with an Elton John classic, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.

"No problem. I'm out at work. Work is being a member of a congresswoman's staff. Mandy Burns from Chicago."

"She's pretty prominent recently and very impressive. I met someone else from her office recently. Kyle Blakesfield.  We were going to get together but our schedules never jived."

"Kyle and I work together. Nice guy." Phil observed and didn't get a reaction, one way or the other.

"I'm also in government work and I'm not out." Mac took a sip of his martini.

"Really? Is it fair to ask you where you work if you're in the closet?" Phil replied with a friendly raised eyebrow. He decided not to respond to the mention of Kyle.

"Um, no, I don't mind. I'm a lowly lawyer and admin gofer in the Vice President's office."

"Hey, your secrets are safe with me."

"Secrets," Mac asked skeptically.

"That you're gay and Republican. In this town that's a lethal combination." Phil winked and finished off the remaining pinkish liquid in his cocktail glass. "And I doubt that you're just a gofer."

"Maybe not the best combination but we kinda have a 'don't ask, don't tell' thing going on in the office. You know, there are a lot of us who are Republican and don't appreciate the bible-thumping, fundamentalist, hateful assholes. As far as being a gofer, I'm pretty junior to a lot of big dogs. So, I get to do the stuff no one else wants to do."

"Hey, I'm just pulling your leg. We may be on opposite sides of the aisle but it doesn't mean we can't be friends. Speaking of friends, yours seemed to have disappeared."

"Well, it is a workday tomorrow. Plus I told them I had met this absolutely neat guy and wanted to get to know him better."

"Anyone I know?" Phil mischievously put his hand around Mac's waist. 'Hmm,' he thought, 'this body feels very tight.'

"You, doofus. By the way, did I pass?" Mac chuckled and duplicated Phil's movement and slowly moved his hand around Phil's waist.


"Phil, the old 'check out the love handles' routine is as old as the hills. By the way, you certainly passed with flying colors. Gotcha." Mac laughed and finished his martini.

"I think we both passed and I apologize for being so obvious. Listen, as much as I'd like to stay here and have another one, tomorrow is an office day. But it's still early to get a chance to know each other better. You wanna come over to Casa Tortello?"

"Phil Tortello? Good strong name and the answer is yes, Mac Price accepts your invitation."

"Mac, now that we've got the formalities out of the way, what say we split? You want to follow me in your car? I've got a place in Georgetown and street parking isn't too bad where my apartment is located."

"This is my neighborhood, Phil, and I walked. If you don't mind, I suggest we walk over to my place and save Casa Tortello for another time."

"Let's do it. I guess my vintage Toyota will be safe here." The two men strolled past the dance floor, still gyrating with guys, walked downstairs and left the bar. 'The more I'm with Mac,' Phil thought, 'the more I like what I see."

"I'm over a couple of blocks on 19th Street. Don't worry, it's well-lit." Mac gave Phil a reassuring rub on the small of the back and they started the short trip. Within five minutes and one turn at the corner of R and 19th, Mac took Phil's hand as they ascended up the stoop steps of a renovated brownstone.

"Nice place," Phil said when he walked into the foyer of the building.

"I'm up on three in possibly the smallest one-bedroom apartment in the world. But it works for me." Mac led the way up the stairway, unlocked a door on the third floor and flipped on a light. "Welcome, buddy."

"Thanks." As soon as the door was closed, Phil pulled Mac towards him and lightly kissed a willing mouth. "Just so you know, I'm not an easy lay," Phil said with a chuckle. "I really wanted to get to know you better...from the first moment I saw you."

"Well, I'm not exactly your garden-variety slut. Although I can be talked into a little variety that might be considered slutty." Mac pressed hard against Phil's lips and attacked the orifice with gusto. It was a draw as tongues traded entry.

"Ohhh, ummm..." Phil groaned while he ground his hardening dick into Mac's bulging crotch. "Babe, these jeans are death on a guy who's excited to be with you, if you get my drift," he said after he pushed loose.

"More than get your drift." Mac reached down and passed his hand over the outline of Phil's covered erection. "Man, it feels like I've found my own weapon of mass destruction." Mac smiled lasciviously as he rubbed Phil's excited cock.

"And this WMD is not a fabrication," Phil replied with a chuckle.

"Oh, my loyalties to the administration are being tested. Let's check politics at the door and come into the bedroom." Mac tugged and pulled Phil's sweater off and laid it on a living room chair. Without waiting for assistance, he unbuttoned and removed his shirt. It joined the lonely sweater. "This way, stud."

"I'm definitely following the leader." As they entered the Spartan bedroom, Phil couldn't help but admire Mac's trim physique. Just a small cluster of chest hair between Mac's well-defined pecs matched the closely cropped strawberry blond hair. From the rear, his muscled back tapering to a slim waist suggested that he must be a swimmer. Mac stopped at the bed, turned and started unfastening his 501's. Phil took the hint and removed his jeans. Within moments, both men had kicked their shoes off, removed their jeans and pulled off their socks.

"I like a man with dark features," Mac said as he stepped up to Phil. He ran his hands over Phil's ample chest hair and down over the flat stomach before resting on Phil's pronounced treasure trail. "Now that it's been determined that we both wear boxers, let's remove them and get down to business." He took his hands around the band of Phil's boxers and firmly tugged on them until they were mid-thigh. Phil shook his legs just enough to allow the boxers to drop to the floor. His 'Italian sausage' stood attention at a 45-degree angle.

"My turn to play show and tell." Phil put his thumbs inside Mac's underwear and pulled them all the way down, moving down to his knees in the process. Mac stepped out of his boxers as Phil studied the hard cock standing at attention before him. 'Well this is interesting,' Phil thought, as he noticed that Mac was uncut. He tentatively stuck out his tongue and lightly swiped it across the semi-covered glans and piss slit.

"Found something you like down there?" Mac shivered a little as Phil pulled back the foreskin and lapped the frenulum.

Phil kissed Mac's glans and stood up. "I gotta tell you that an uncircumcised man really turns me on. I hope you don't mind me admiring your cock, hot stuff?"

"Not at all. Ya know in Texas, where I was raised, the town doctor didn't believe in circumcision. So it was pretty common for all the boys to be natural. It was only when I went to UT in Austin that I realized that my 'hood' was not the norm. You cut guys don't know what you're missing." Mac winked and pulled back the bed covers.

"Mac, would you indulge me for a few minutes?" Phil got on the bed and pulled Mac with him. They were both on their knees as they faced each other.

"Something tells me that my dick has something to do with this." Their cocks were almost touching. "You want me to dock with you, right?" he said with a snicker.

"Buddy, this is a fantasy that I've had since I watched two guys on a porn tape several years ago. This is my first opportunity to try it. Do you mind?" Phil looked into Mac's eyes while he rubbed Mac's biceps.

"Naw, I kinda get off on it, too. Just keep kneeling and let me do the work."

"Only to a point. This is only one of the things that I'd like to do tonight." Phil placed his hands on the mattress for support as Mac brought their two piss-slits together to touch.

"Think of it as our dicks kissing," Mac purred. He took his foreskin and rolled it over the head of Phil's naked cockhead until it was completely blanketed.

"Oh, fuck, that feels hot." Phil closed his eyes and smiled as Mac massaged the two wedded, covered glans. Within a few minutes, he felt his body sending early warning signals that he would soon be climaxing. "Babe, I think I've satisfied my curiosity with docking," he said as he gently pulled his cock away from Mac's foreskin shroud. Phil lay over on his side and indicated that he'd like Mac to rest his head at the opposite end.

"A little seventy minus one?" Mac said before he started licking Phil's balls.

"You're awfully good at math." Phil immediately attacked Mac's glans by moving his tongue around and under the foreskin that hadn't retreated. After retrieving the unique, musky flavors, Phil pulled back the foreskin with his hand and took Mac's hard cock in his mouth.

"Oh, man, let's do this with a little precision. I'd love to cum at the same time." Mac dove onto Phil's hard member and started bobbing his head back and forth. They were both a respectable six inches with balls that flopped with the action.

Phil was in heaven as he sucked away and brought the spongy glans back to his throat with each pass. He played with Mac's nuts and decided not to go further that night. 'The promised land will wait for the next occasion,' he decided. As he sped up his oral assault, Phil felt Mac's scrotum tighten as the balls started the classic retreat.

Mac knew he was about to shoot. He also sensed that Phil was ready. The deep breathing, nuts tightening and the already hard cock becoming even larger told Mac that they were in synch. Each started aggressively fucking the other's face until mutual release was imminent.

'Thar she blows.' Phil's body tightened and convulsed. He saw stars and felt a rush of blood to his head as he climaxed. As his dick was being milked, Mac's first forceful stream of spunk shot into his mouth. 'He may be a Republican, but Mac's no prude in bed.' Phil decided, while he savored the semen.