Date: Thu, 16 Jul 2009 05:57:31 -0700 (PDT) From: T. Chase McPhee Subject: PaTRick?S LuCKy CHarM 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 safetymatters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection. PaTRick'S LuCKy CHarM 11 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee % Austin almost fell out of the car as Patrick pulled the door open. Cool as a cucumber, Austin reaches in his pocket and dangles before Patrick's eyes, "Is this what you are looking for?" "Oh my God, yes!" Patrick exclaimed. "Where did you find it, Austin?" "It must've come off when you removed your shirt." Backing off, Austin stepped out of the patrol car. "I didn't see you wearing it when I held your shirt for you." All this time Ke'ala is being a patient bystander, taking in the situation at hand. When Patrick went to fasten it around his neck, he stopped when a pair of hands assisted. "Oh, thanks Ke'ala." "It is my pleasure." But after it was fastened, while Patrick was still on cloud nine, he moved forwards, embraced Austin and in reply of finding his precious metal, "Oh thanks so much Austin. You don't know how much this means to me." Austin did confess, "I had something like that when I was a teenager. Had it all the way up till I entered the police academy and then one weekend it went missing. Never found it." "Oh I'm so sorry." As for Ke'ala, it seemed strange to himself the empathy he was feeling for Austin. He knew what it meant to lose something important to himself, whether it be another person or something very personal and meaningful. He smiled as his hand pressed against his Hawaiian shirt, feeling the metal chain hidden between his own chest and fabric. He smiled, thinking how excited Patrick was upon finding something which meant much to him. After Patrick broke of his thankful hug, Ke'ala offered a handshake, "Thank you very much, Austin." Both Austin and Patrick thought it strange when Ke'ala did this, but at the same time saw what seemed like projection of a kind heart. "It was nothing," Austin offered in return. And with a calmness about, the three exchanging glances, he says, "I better get back to fighting the bad guys!" "Godspeed," Ke'ala offered along with a wave. Again, the two walked across the lawn, between bushes. "Doesn't the backpack ever get heavy?" "No. I'm used to carrying a heavy load. My life story," Ke'ala replies. Walking in the two room cabin, Patrick gave him the tour, stepping in and illuminating the not so well lit building. "This is the jon and out here," he pulled a chain, flicking a light on, "is your bedroom." "This is very spacious." Not to Patrick. Both the bedroom and jon encompassed the amount of space of his bedroom at Uncle Pat's house. Plus, at home he had room to spare. He makes comment, "Really? I thought it to be rather cramped." Yet, as they did stand at the side of the bed there wasn't much room for either to move. Setting his backpack into the pocket of an easy chair, Ke'ala pulled back and forth at his shirt, allowing air to enter and escape. "Whew! I'm all sweated up!" Not that he had to apologize, Patrick tells him, "I'm sorry there's no bath tub, but there is a nice shower or you can take a dip in the pool?" "The pool sounds very nice," Ke'ala replies. And Patrick just stood there as Ke'ala reacted, beginning to unbutton his shirt from top to bottom. He stripped it and hung it over a hook on the door. He turned to access his backpack, catching Patrick staring at him. He knew what it was about, but to save Patrick from explanation, asked, "Do you like my tattoo?" He stood sideways, moving his arm out of the way. Coming closer, Patrick tilted his head viewing the picture between Ke`ala`s armpit and waist. "Nice bird." Normally he would not make a ruckus over it, but for some reason, not yet know to him, Ke'ala felt an explanation was in store. "It was inspired by my former lover." "Former? Meaning you don't have one now?" "No," he simply replied to Patrick's question. "Would I be too forward asking you what happened?" And it went, Ke'ala telling about surfing in Austrailia, his first trip there and after an incident where a guy he got to know very well was attacked by a shark and lived only a day more, "And before it all happened, we each had these tattoos done." "Wow! That's some story!" But more than a story, Patrick was feeling remorse, as if somebody close to him, say Jason, had perished. It never happened to him where he felt this deeply concerned about another person's welfare, other than something between a parent and child. This was different. So strong did his emotion dictate it, Patrick couldn't help but take Ke'ala's hands in his. "I'm real sorry." And looking right into Patrick's eyes, Ke'ala cracked a slight smile. "I know you are." At first Patrick's heart started beating wildly. Ke'ala's eyes were closed but his wide open. Here, this older dude was using his hands as the fulcrum for reeling him in for a kiss! Not once did his eyes open, even when their lips met and when they did it felt so soothing, so gentle, so loving. Patrick gave up thinking about it happening and went with the flow, his eyes closing. In the silence of nothingness he inadvertently followed Ke'ala's lead, moving his bod so close they touched. He couldn't believe it! The first sensation made him moan, like something sexually sensual taking place. But soon something sensual `was' taking place as he felt his pubes reacting to Ke'ala stabbing him below the belt. More aware of what was unfolding he backed off his lips. There was Ke'ala, staring at him, a smile on his face. Their bods still touched, slowly parting from about the navel up. Reaching their faces, Ke'ala ventures to say, "You are very sweet." Frankly, Patrick being inexperienced at sweet stuff didn't know what to respond, but simply said, "Thanks. I think you kiss good." And breaking off as if nothing happened, Ke'ala says, "Ready for that swim?" Patrick was ready alright, but he was still on duty, so excused himself. He cursed himself on the way back to his office, thinking of it as the worst thing in the world, turning down Ke'ala. All the way back to his office, the one he and Salv shared, he breathed in and out as if doing an aerobic workout. Upon reaching the office, he let himself in and stood with his back to the door in the semi-darkened room, eyes closed. Over and over he pictured himself and Ke'ala standing there as if an outer body experience. He relived the kiss, the touching of hands, the folding of arms around each other, corralling their bods closeness. The first ring of the telephone didn't phase him. Second ring made Patrick aware of its ringing. The third ring he was on it, rushing to the desk. Picking up he called into the phone, "Salv? Where the hell are you?" With quick explanation, Salv told Patrick he was freed of his `torment' and since there wasn't much of the day left he was taking the rest of the day off. Nothing was said of what Salv was doing for the rest of the day! After hanging up, Patrick collapsed in the swivel chair at the desk. He exhaled deeply. Turning on the light at the desk, the purpose was right in front of him, a folder containing all he needed to find out about Ke'ala. Basic information revealed his name, Ke'ala Alaka'i, his address, which was in care of the University of Hawaii, his title of `doctor', with a PhD in ornithology. More vitals revealed he was..."Holy shit! Twenty-seven years old?" He sat back, his bod fading from the fluorescent light of the desk lamp, his thinking, "I've been kissed by a twenty-seven year old man!" % Copyright 2009 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author. The more you stretch, the more you can fit in... 'spread' happiness! TCMcP.....