STANDARD WARNING: This is a work of fiction. Any coincidence to
individuals, living or dead, is pure coincidence. Do not read
this story if you are offended by man-to-man romance or sex. Do
not read if you are underage according to the laws in the
country, state/province, county, city/town/village or township
where you live. There is sex between males. You have been warned!
By archer.
Chapter 3
Matt
Matt began to yearn for a place of his own. He loved living
with Marty, but he wanted a place that he could call his own,
where he could leave his sox in the living room, if he wanted.
And then there was the issue of sex. It was just as awkward
walking in on Marty or vice-versa as a straight roommate.
He wasn't earning that much money yet, but still,
he could dream. He bought house plan books with his employee
discount. He slowed when he saw a "For Sale' sign in front
of a house he thought he could afford. And as part of his slow,
leisurely study of the Sunday Tribune, Matt always studied
the Homes section. One Sunday In April, he spotted the HUD ad.
The Housing and Urban Development administration sold damaged
homes to do-it-yourselfers in the hope that they would bring the
house up to code, live in it, and turn the neighborhood around.
That Sunday he spotted a three bedroom town home in Park Forest
for sale.
Park Forest was built right after World War II
for the returning servicemen. It was a planned community, with a
shopping center in the middle of town, apartments and town homes
surrounding the downtown area and single family homes further
out. Instead of a grid pattern, the streets were laid out in
gentle curves. In the 'downtown' area, an open mall served as one
of the first shopping centers in the country. Matt had been to
Park Forest many times. His mom had a coworker who lived in one
of the town homes, in fact. She was divorced and lived there with
her kids. He had been to the shopping center many times as a kid.
Matt ripped out the page. He jumped in his car
and began the trip to Park Forest. He followed the twisting
streets to the address in the HUD ad. He remembered that all the
three bedroom town homes were that the end of the rows. He got a
bit turned around looking for Ash Street, but he found it, and
the home featured in the ad. The windows on the lower floor were
all boarded up, and there were angry black scars over the
windows. There had been a fire. Curiosity satisfied, he drove
back to Marty's.
"Oh, darling, you're not really going to buy
that abortion in Park Forest, are you?"
"No, Marty, I'm not going to buy it, I'm just going
to look at it. I have to make an appointment with a broker to see
it. I want to see how bad it is."
"No need. I can tell you. It's a disaster."
"Still, I want to see it. I don't know why."
"I think you've been watching too much This Old House.
And all this time I thought you had a construction worker
fetish."
"I do had a construction worker fetish! Are you free
on Saturday?"
"For what? A construction worker?"
"No. I'm going to look at it. Want to go with?"
"To see the stunt double for the Bates Motel? No,
thanks."
"Oh, come on. Just a couple hours of your time. Besides, you
have to meet my realtor. She's a hoot!"
Marty sighed and rolled his eyes. "OK, cupcake. But not too
early in the morning. I need my beauty rest."
Because there was no direct expressway to Park forest, they drove
down I 57 to Route 30, then took that east to Park Forest. The
passed endless strip malls that crowded, pushed and competed with
each other for attention. Traffic was heavy and the numerous
traffic lights cut off like kinks in a garden hose.
Marty fidgeted in the passenger seat, alternately
fussing with the seat belt, chain smoking, or changing the radio
station.
"We're meeting Jan at this place?" Marty asked when
they stopped for yet another light.
"Yeah. This the the next step. You set up an appointment
with a broker and see the place."
"Please, dear," Marty gestured dramatically with his
hands, "don't do anything rash."
They finally reached Orchard, one of the main north-south streets
in the town. It twisted gently and they turned left, then right
onto Ash Street.
"There it is. And there's Jan. "
"She's a big girl," giggled Marty. "Big enough to
have her own zip code."
"Now," Matt continued as he parked the car,
"Remember- positive attitude and don't drop too many
hairpins."
They walked up to the town home, There were six units in each
building. They were clad in red brick and had black shutters.
Each unit was staggered about four feet from the unit adjacent to
it."
"I'm Jan Reeves." she held out her hand.
"I'm Matt Rosato. This is Marty Donovan."
"He's your......"
"Friend," Matt completed the phrase before she could
jump to conclusions.
Jan turned and walked up the sidewalk. "It's been vacant
about a year. You understand the terms of the HUD mortgage?"
"Not really," Matt admitted.
"From the time you purchase the house - the date you close
on the sale - you have one year to bring it up to code and occupy
it. You can do the work yourself, or contract it out, but either
way you have one year."
The front door took a little persuasion to open. Even before the
door was full open the acrid smell of smoke was strong. The walls
of the living room were covered with soot. The carpet had been
torn up, and so had the hardwood flooring. All the molding around
the windows was gone as well.
"These three bedroom town homes are nice. Lots of
possibilities. The utilities have been cut off. Fortunately, no
vandals have broken in."
Under his breath, Marty said, "It might have been better if
they did."
If she heard the comment, Jan ignored it. "The kitchen has
been completely destroyed. It's just as well. The original
kitchens were ugly. Sorry it's so dark in here." She was
referring to the fact that all the windows on the lower floor had
been boarded over. The large living room was combined with the
dining area to form an L-shaped plan. The kitchen, which occupied
the rest of the first floor, was the worst. The cabinets had been
removed, as had the appliances. What remained of the walls were
charred and destroyed.
Marty spoke the obvious. "Oh, Matt, this is a
disaster."
Jan put on a brave smile. Yes, it's bad. And to be honest with
you, all the people who have looked at the place have been scared
off when they see this. But think about the possibilities. You
could start from scratch, and it could be beautiful."
Matt glanced at Marty who grinned and scratched
his eyebrow with his middle finger.
"Can we see the upstairs?" Matt asked.
"Of course." Jan replied.
They marched up the stairs to the second floor. The entire floor
had been cleaned to an extent. The three bedrooms were decent
sized and bright. The mature trees were visible through the
windows. Matt's eyes lit up. He liked what he saw. The only
drawback on he second level was the bathroom. It was directly out
of the 1950's with a pedestal sink and a black-and-white checked
tile floor. After this, they viewed the basement with the aid of
a flashlight from Jan's purse. It was dry, although some water
damage was visible from the fire department's effort to put out
the fire. The furnace and hot water heater were original and
needed to be replaced.
Jan explained that the village of Park Forest was
extremely strict about additions to the buildings. So the only
option was to improve the basement. Matt was concerned about the
fact that there was only one bathroom in the whole unit.
The trio ended their tour at the front door again.
"So what do you think?" Jan asked Matt.
"Let's go for it."
Back in the car on the way to Marty's apartment, Marty said,
"You're not really going to buy it are you?"
"Yes. That's my intention."
"I don't believe it. Marty huffed.
Matt did his best Gerald O'Hara imitation. "You mean to
tell me, Katie Scarlett O'Hara that land doesn't mean anything to
you? Why it's the only thing worth working for, worth fighting
for, worth dying for. Because it's the only thing that
lasts."
After their hysterics died down, Marty said "You know,
you'll have to borrow a lot more to repair that dump, And even if
you put sweat equity into it, you won't save all that much
money."
"I know," Matt answered, "But I still want to do
it."
For the next few months, Matt spent every spare
moment thinking about, planning, and preparing for the town home.
He had never filled out so many forms in his life. The economy
was strong, and interest rates were low, but Matt's credit wasn't
perfect - an unfortunate legacy from living with Andy. Still, he
got a slightly lower rate that his parents had when they bought
their first house.
Jan helped Matt find a bank who would finance,
and suggested an architect and a general contractor. Matt
accepted her suggestion of general contractor, but searched for,
and found a gay architect. It was the least he could do. Besides,
a gay architect would have the same esthetic sensibilities.
Matt discussed the move with his parents. Both
were supportive and his dad even volunteered to help once in a
while. If either his mom or dad had misgivings about the project,
they kept them to themselves. Matt's parents had long ago given
up trying to dissuade their strong-willed son out of anything.
Closing day came and went, and Matt found himself
a property owner. Some of the town homes remained rentals, some
were converted into condominiums, and some, like Matt's were
co-ops. In addition to property taxes, he paid a monthly
assessment for outdoor maintenance. If he chose, Matt could do
some of the work himself.
The architect basically kept the floor plan on
the first and second floors the same. There only two major
changes. The first was replacing the wall between the kitchen and
dining area with cabinets for extra storage and a breakfast bar
that would be open to both rooms. Above, he suggested cabinets
with glass doors on both sides. The second was to reconfigure the
stairs to the basement. In he original floor plan, they opened
into the kitchen. In the new plan, they opened into the living
room with a landing that turned the stairs ninety degrees halfway
down. It would open the stairway and give the basement an
illusion of openness. Matt loved the plan. In the basement, the
architect drew up plans for the second bathroom and a family
room/den with a gas fireplace. The other half of the basement
would still function as a utility room.
Once Matt had chosen the general contractor, Patrick McGraw and
Sons, he worked out a schedule to work on the construction in his
time off. Patrick himself was a native Chicagoan with a thick
South Side Irish accent. He was good looking in his own way:
still trim from years of manual labor, his hair was prematurely
silver-gray, but it had not thinned. His face had developed some
wrinkles, but they added to his rugged attractiveness. His brown
eyes were intelligent and quick. Even more attractive was his
son, Tim. Patrick was so busy, that Tim was actually managing
this job.
Matt first met Tim on a chilly October morning
when he went out to the house to help. Most of the time, Tim or
Patrick would leave Matt a note about what they needed to be
done. Usually, it was cleaning, sweeping or maintenance. But on
this day, Matt found a green McGraw and Sons pickup parked in the
lot behind the townhouse.
Tim was a very handsome man. He had light brown hair and brown eyes. Matt guessed he had been a blond when he was younger. He had a firm, square jaw and a rather smallish nose that turned up at the end. It reminded Matt of a ski jump. His lashes were thick. His beard looked very light, and Matt guessed he could skip several days of shaving and still look good. He had a perfect smile bracketed by dimples on both sides of his mouth.
Matt found Tim wielding a sledgehammer as if it
were a toy. He was demolishing the walls in the living room. Tim
spotted Matt, pulled down the dust mask and eyewear, and grinned
widely. His brown hair was cut short, almost in a buzz cut. Like
his father, his eyes were brown and intelligent with just a hint
of mischief. He reminded Matt of a Catholic schoolboy. All that
was missing was the uniform. He shook Matt's hand a little more
firmly and longer than socially necessary.
"You here to help, today?" Tim asked.
"Yeah. what can I do?"
Tim furnished Matt with another mask, protective eyewear, and a
sledgehammer. They worked side by side mostly in silence. Tim
seldom spoke, unless Matt asked him a direct question. But Matt
watched Tim as he worked, the flexing of his muscles was evident
even though the layers of clothing the other man wore. Tim had
pushed the sleeves of his sweatshirt to his elbows, and Matt was
stimulated by the image of his muscular, veined, and surprisingly
hairless forearms. Matt wished it were hot enough to prompt Tim
to take off his shirt. But as the day progressed, it remained
chilly since the new furnace had not been delivered yet. Even so,
Matt could see the young man's broad shoulders flex even beneath
his clothing as he took a swing at the wall. Tim paused, glanced
at Matt, and grinned. The dimples appeared.
For the remaining three weeks in October, Matt worked every spare
moment at his new home. Matt also hoped he could catch a glimpse
of Tim. A variety of sub-contractors came and went. New windows
arrived and replaced the old, drafty, rusted, steel casement
windows. A new high efficiency furnace was installed. New wiring
replaced the old electrical service, and at Matt's request the
electrician also installed dual telephone lines, cable television
and speaker wires.
The basement was coming along as well, with a new system of
joists secured to the concrete walls, drywall and subflooring.
Matt's tasks included helping with the insulation, some wiring,
and cleanup. As the end of the month arrived, plasterers were
taping the blueboard joints, and applying a thin coat of plaster.
It was just as well. Matt never could get the hang of plastering.
November arrived, and Matt had to devote all his time to the
store. It seemed to Matt that when he was not working, he was
asleep. He put in some fifty-hour weeks. The Christmas season was
critical; over half a store's profits could be earned. He visited
the town home only occasionally and didn't see Tim all that time.
The image of the brown haired man followed him, and made Matt
question his own emotions. Was his gaydar detecting something or
was it merely wishful thinking? Matt knew Tim was engaged to be
married, and there had never been more than knowing looks. Still,
Tim occupied his masturbatory fantasies that busy Christmas
season.
Christmas at the store had been a resounding success. Sales had
far exceeded plan. More than that, most of the customers had been
cheerful. The economy was strong, and they had money to spend.
Therefore, there were very few grouchy or crabby customers. For
this, Matt was extremely grateful.
Almost six weeks had passed since Matt last
visited the town home. It was the week between Christmas and New
Year's. A thin layer of snow covered the ground. Outside there
was the familiar green McGraw and Sons pickup truck with a
shamrock on the door.
When Matt entered his new home, it looked to him to be almost
finished. The lower level was startlingly white in the winter
sun. The walls had been plastered, but not painted. Matt heard a
radio tuned to WKQX, an adult contemporary station.
"Who's there?" A masculine voice called from the
basement.
"It's me, Matt."
"Come down and give me a hand. I'm installing the
shower."
When Matt spotted Tim, the younger man smiled and the dimples
appeared. Matt hadn't planned on working this day, but almost
skipped down the stairs anyway. The prospect of working alone
with Tim was exciting. The fiberglass shower stall was bulky and
awkward but surprisingly light. Tim plumbed the fixtures. Matt
helped him snap the rest of the panels into place. Tim installed
the knobs and shower head. They smiled at each other with the
completion of their task.
"All we have to do now is install the door and caulk
it." He looked right into Matt's eyes. "Right now,
though, I'm hungry."
Matt glanced at his watch. It was 12:30 already. Now that Tim had
said something, he noticed his hunger for the first time.
"Where do you want to go?" Matt asked.
"How about Jonny Lee's? They have the best Chinese food
around. And they deliver."
Matt smiled. "Great. But I don't know what to order."
Tim strode over to the stairs, picked up his Dayrunner off a
step, ripped open the Velcro, and handed Matt a worn carry out
menu from Jonny Lee's.
"Tell me what you want. I'll call them on my
cell phone. My treat this time," Tim said with a grin.
A half hour later, they were sitting on the living room floor,
eating directly out of the cartons. They chatted easily as if
they had been buddies all their lives. Matt thought that this was
the longest sustained conversation he had had with Tim since they
met.
"You and your dad have done a great job here," Matt
complimented.
"It's going to be a nice home for you and your family."
"I don't have a family."
"What?"
"What I mean is, I'm not married."
"Oh." Tim paused a long time before adding,
"Pretty big house for a single guy."
Matt shrugged. There was another long pause while Matt formulated
his next question. "Are you?"
"What?"
"Married?"
A troubled look crossed Tim's face. "Not yet. I'm
engaged."
Boldly Matt asked, "You don't want to get married?"
"I'm not ready." He put another forkful of chicken with
pea pods in his mouth, chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed.
"I'm not ready to settle down."
"How old are you, anyway?"
"Twenty-four."
God, Matt thought, he's almost ten years younger than
me. They finished eating, and put the empty cartons in a
trash bag. Downstairs they went to finish the shower stall. The
caulked together, a major feat in the tiny enclosed space. Matt
was on his knees caulking the seams on the bottom, while Tim
caulked around the fixtures.
Tim stepped out and announced, "It's getting warm in
here." He set his tube of caulk down, and pulled off his
sweatshirt. The static also pulled up the navy blue T-shirt he
was wearing underneath, revealing a perfect, hairless torso. Tim
was not skinny, but neither was he fat. He was muscular in a
bulky sort of way. And he had no body hair, which turned Matt on.
Tim caught Matt's eye and the dimples appeared.
They resumed caulking, but Matt's hands were
trembling so badly, he kept making mistakes. Fortunately, the
caulk was forgiving as long as one wiped up mistakes quickly.
"I think I need a break." Matt extracted himself from
the shower stall and sat on a step.
Tim continued to work for a time in silence, then spoke.
"You've been watching me." His voice echoed in the
shower stall.
"W-w-what do you mean?"
Tim stepped out of the shower stall. He wasn't smiling but the
dimples appeared. "I saw you watching me."
Tim began to rub his crotch. A large bulge
appeared in the front of his jeans. He sauntered over to the step
Matt was sitting on.
"Don't worry, I won't tell my dad," Tim whispered,
although there was no one else within earshot. He unzipped his
fly and pulled his cock out of his black boxer briefs. It was
semi-hard, circumcised and about six inches long. What made it
remarkable was the circumference. It reminded Matt of a beer can.
Tim put his right hand on the back of Matt's head
and applied gentle pressure, urging him foreward toward his dick.
On the radio, Hey Jealousy by the Gin Blossoms was
playing. Matt loved the song, but the drama before him commanded
his attention.
"Come on," Tim said, still whispering.
I shouldn't be doing this! This is stupid! A voice
screamed in the back of Matt's head. But Matt ignored the voice,
as his lips moved closer to the younger man's rod.
Tim smelled basically clean, but slightly of sweat. Matt's mouth
wasn't accustomed to such a huge cock. He had to loosen his jaw
to accommodate it.
"Oh, yeah," Tim moaned, as he now held Matt's head on
either side. Matt was glad that Tim responded. He hated men that
just stood there. Matt could feel the calouses on the younger
man's hands. Matt stopped sucking for a moment to lick Tim's
balls. Tim moaned even louder.
"You are so good," Tim encouraged. "I'm getting
close." A few moments later, Matt resumed sucking on Tim's
rod.
That was fast, Matt thought.
Before he knew it, Tim pulled his prick out of Matt's mouth, and
shot a large load. A few drops hit Matt's right shoulder before
he could move out of the way.
"Thanks." Tim said. "No extra charge for that.
McGraw and Sons are full-service General Contractors."
In his car, on the way back to Marty's apartment, something kept bothering Matt. He couldn't put his finger on it. A song that he hated came on the radio, and Matt commenced station hopping, one of his favorite hobbies in the car. On The Mix, Hey Jealousy was playing again. The music jogged Matt's memory. His crotch was shaved, Matt remembered with a start. Everything. His balls, his pubic hair, it was all shaved. Dear God. But wait, Matt thought. Unless they're porn stars, straight men never shave their crotches.
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