Date: Mon, 11 Dec 2006 07:29:45 -0800 (PST)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: OLD-FASHIONED GOOD WILL 03

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.

%

"OLD-FASHIONED GOOD WILL" 03
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"So, how do you spend your free time on the weekends,
Cliff?"

"Oh, doing the laundry, cleaning up around here."

"Um, including the bedroom?"

"Lay off about that, will ya!"

Heckling Cliff, Jim got a dirty sock thrown at him.

"Eweeee! How many times did you wear this?"

"Once."

"Let me rephrase that. How long has it been sitting in
the hamper?"

"Okay, so I had a busy weekend last week, including
your father's calf."

Drawing a correlation, Jim translates `calf' to `son'.

"Ma was pretty broken up about me not living with
them."

"Oh, so they're happier with you living with a
faggot?"

"I told you Cliff. They are over it."

Stuffing clothes in the washer, a lull in their
conversing, made Cliff turn away from the laundry
duty.

"Hey, I'm sorry."

"I know. I don't get half as depressed to think about
it, but still, the memories are there."

"C'mon. Let's talk about it, as I make breakfast."

"Yeah. Okay."

Jim followed Cliff up the stairs, from the basement,
the door opening right at the kitchen.

"So, what are you used to eating for breakfast?"

"A Starbucks."

"And what else?"

"Nothing, until lunch time."

"You need a hardy breakfast to get a start on the
day."

"I usually had something at work, when I was a
fratboy."

"Work? With the dough your father has, you worked at
college?"

"I wanted to earn my own way. At least some of it. I
didn't want to bother him for spending money. He's
always kept asking me what I spent it on. You know how
he is, Cliff."

"Mr. Pennypincher."

"Exactly. I got tired of the interrogation, so set out
to find something."

"And what did you come up with?"

"I worked as a dishwasher in a restaurant."

"Did you like it?"

"No that much, being the lowest on the totem pole,
but it was a job. Over time, I developed an interest
in the chefs."

"Cute, were they?"

"I'm trying to tell you a story here!"

Cliff smiled at Jim, in between cracking open some
eggs.

"A coupla them were cute."

More tactical, at getting even for interrupting, it
was Cliff's turn to wait, plus speculate."

"Ahem! So, from a professional view, I watched the
intricacy in food preparation, the preciseness, the
methods in which they prepared meals in seconds, going
from one order to the next. It was cool how the chefs
could keep everybody's order separate, plus each
having a specific job to do."

If it had been `shop', to Cliff, referring to his
vetenary practice, he might have been a bit bored,
however Jim, rolling out the facts, like he knew the
food trade inside out, kept Cliff attuned, plus the
cute manner in which his quickly developing love
interest delved out each enlightening detail, like
gravy on mashed potatoes.

"As with any aspect of keeping a food catering
establishment in business,  getting meals out in a
decent amount of time, plus adhering to the taste buds
of it's patrons, these guys were top knotch!"

"And how did you come by all this information?" Cliff
inquired, stirring the eggs around in the sizzling
butter.

"I kept asking questions. One of the chefs, this hot
guy, Adrian...."

"I knew it!"

With a big grin on his face, Cliff pointed the finger.

"It's not at all like you think it is Mr. Smarty! Our
relationship was strictly professional. Adrian saw I
had an interest and began teaching me how to cook."

"Hmm... was your interest in the cooking or Adrian?"

"Cliff, life isn't all hot mansex!"

"I know it's not. Sorry I got you teed off."

"Whew!" Jim instantly forgave, throwing Cliff a curve.
"Are you this horny all the time?"

"Um, no. Usually it strikes me later in the day, after
work, unless I happen upon a certain somebody, while
making my rounds, then......"

"Alright.. alright. Sorry I asked!"

"Sorry I interrupted. Want to go on?"

Looking up at Cliff, Jim shook his head. At certain
points, he got annoyed. Regardless, he couldn't stay
mad at the twenty-nine year old vet.

"You're angry at me, aren't you?"

"I'm not angry." A brief pause and Jim was back on
track. "Adrian was gay, but we respected each other.
Like I said, our relationship was strictly him showing
me how to create some awesome dishes. I learned a lot
from him. Soon I worked my way up to `line man'."

"Here."

"What's this?"

"Fried eggs. I don't cook too fancy around here. In
fact, most `dishes' `I' make are from a package."

"Nothing wrong with it."

Though Jim had his reservations, spoiled by sampling
the courses Adrian and he cooked up, he feigned good
humor, as the ordinary, butter-soaked eggs were
shoveled out on his plate.

"Oh, so before we stray off subject. Tell me about
your folks and Ian."

Scooting himself under the table, toast and eggs in
front of each of them, Jim shifted gears, from Adrian,
to unlock more of the secrets regarding his folks.

"So, like I said, I helped Ian runaway."

"And you never told your folks you helped."

"Right and I don't feel guilty about it or anything.
Should I?"

"Not necessarily. I think, the way you talk, you had
this loving devotion towards Ian. Sometimes actions
supercede emotions. It probably wouldn't have made a
difference if you told them or not, other than getting
yourself into trouble."

"I guess."

"So, what made your folks turn the tide?"

"Oh yeah. So, Ian made a list and I brought whatever
he asked me to bring him, to the hospital. He
illegally checked himself out, as I kept some of the
hospital personnel busy."

Cliff didn't expect Jim to travel back far in time.
His curiosity made him seek out all aspects, even if
Jim kept batting back and forth between past and
present.

"How did you manage?"

"Faked having a stomach ache. They bought it, thinking
I had appendicitis or something."

"I'll have to remember your acting skills!"

"It's not like a kid doesn't get a belly ache now and
then. I know the feeling."

"Same here. So, Ian made a clean getaway, I take it?"

"Right. Thing is, I didn't have any way to keep in
contact with him. I... I.... lost track of him."

Playing with his eggs, his chin almost pinned to his
chest, Cliff could see the return of Jim's anxiety.
Reaching across the table, both of his hands clasped
Jim's one free hand.

"What about your folks? Did they try to find him?"

"Of course. For weeks on end my dad tried to track him
down, hiring a detective, but there wasn't any trail
to follow."

"Must've been a good plan you two hatched up?"

"Ian's idea really. He was always good at solving
problems; a good mathematician. He got good grades in
school."

Allowing Jim, Cliff let him regress to childhood
memories, the fun two brothers had, playing baseball,
pranks on other guys, normal recollections of things
boys did. Cliff could relate to some of them, being
one of the residents of the small community, in
development.

"What are you smiling at?"

"Oh nothing."

Folding his arms across his chest, waiting patiently,
Jim says, "You know something, Cliff. Tell me!"

Setting his fork on his plate, Cliff, all smiles,
wiped his mouth, before proceeding.

"I think it's a shame."

"What is?"

Again, Cliff smiled, getting ready to lay it all on
his unsuspecting house guest.

"I knew Ian."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"Hell, we're the same age. In this small town, how
could I not?"

"And you didn't know me?"

"You didn't know me."

"True. I mean, I probably saw you, but didn't know
`who' you were. Upper classmen usually don't want to
have anything to do with students younger than they."

Cliff thought about it, admitting to himself he wished
he had gotten to know at least one underclassman!

"Right."

"So, you knew my brother."

"I knew him, to look at him. I didn't exactly `hang
out' with him. I don't even think I ever heard him
called by his full name, let alone his first."

"Oh, so you didn't really know him."

"Not really. We weren't in the same circle of
friends."

"Too bad."

"Why?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Jim reports, "You might have
gotten close enough... I mean..."

"I know where this is going. None of us, and I'm sure
there had been more gays than you, Ian and I myself,
none of us cared to divulge our sexual prowness,
considering the strict religious community we lived
in."

"Point proven, when one of them made it known."

"Ian."

"Right."

Instead of staying in the past, Cliff fast forwarded
it.

"And to this day you haven't heard from Ian?"

Signaling with his head shaking back and forth, Jim
relayed the grim thought.

"He's what? Same age as me?"

"I think thirty."

"Sometimes, in a man's life he realizes it's been a
long time and time heals. I'm sure he feels as hurt
towards leaving you, as you feel about him leaving."

"I did. Still do."

Strenuous is good way of putting the atmosphere at the
moment.

"Thanks for caring."

"You're welcome," he returned, with a smile.

Interrupting, the phone rings. Cliff releases Jim's
hand to answer it. Returning, Jim has taken most of
the dirty dishes and placed them in the sink, stuffing
his last forkfull of eggs in his mouth, washing it
down with the last of his coffee.

"What's up?"

"Sick dog. I have to run over to the Quin-Shaw place."

"The who?"

"Steen and Caroline Quin-Shaw. They moved into town
while you were away. They have the cutest twin boys."

"Our age?"

"I thought you said life wasn't all about sex?"

"Just trying to be neighborly!"

"They're nineteen."

"What do they look like?"

"Why don't you come meet them for yourself?"

"Sure. Would be cool tagging around with you."

"And oh, they have a little girl, Emily."

Not half as curious about Emily, Jim hurried off, with
Cliff, up the stairs, to jump into traveling clothes.

"So, you've known the Crenshaws long?"

"Quin-Shaw, dummy. Not Crenshaw!"

"Oh, I got it. `Quin' and `Shaw'. So what nationality
are they?"

"The father is half Dutch and Irish, I think,  and the
mother American, from the south, but originally I
think she's from Hoboken, New Jersey."

"What a mix. How did they wind up out here, in the
heartland?"

"Steen explains it, as with the first pioneers, they
saw an opportunity."

"Cattle?"

"No, no. You're way off. They are into producing
organic food. There's a big market for it nowadays."

"Except at your place?"

"Don't make fun of my eggs or I'll have you earning
your keep as a chef!"

"I'd much rather earn it in your bed!"

Cliff smiled, then grinned, as he paid attention to
the road.

"What?"

"Nothin'."

Already, Cliff was picking up on some of Jim's traits.
With arms folded over his chest, he already gathered
Jim not budging, not a peep from him, until his
secrets had been exposed.

"Alright-already!"

"So?"

Arms unfolded, his silent tactic paying off, Jim got
his answer.

"I was only thinking of... of..."

He couldn't drive and convey his feelings at the same
moment, in danger of running off the road, so Cliff
chose to pull over to the shoulder of the country
lane.

"What's so important you have to pull over?"

With his left arm up, over the steering wheel, Cliff
turned to face Jim.

"I had more than a fun time, sexually, in bed last
night."

"Meaning?"

As if Jim couldn't tell what the outcome of Cliff's
address was destined to contain. As Cliff lay out the
foundations for his tender message, Jim thought of how
satisfying a time he had. Just the thoughts made his
crotch tingle with new emotions.

"I'm not good at words, but I like you man!"

Giggling, Jim replies, "Good you've gotten it out in
the open, Cliff. Actually, I felt the same, but....
more?"

Without further ado, Jim pops the seatbelt, leans
over, says, "C'mere," clutches the midchest region of
Cliff's shirt, and pulls them both in opposite
directions, so as to make their lips collide.

>From the steering wheel, Cliff stretches, his torso
butting up against the steering mechanism, almost to
the point of pain, but overriding it, as the sweet
emotion takes over.

"Wow!" Cliff comments.

"Get my meaning?"

"Um, you more than `like' me?"

Smiling, Jim played on Cliff's emotions, reaching
over, shifting the 4x4's gears, into `D'.

Before long, they entered an arbor, constructed of
brick and wrought iron, the letters `QS', artistically
entwined above them.

"Fancy," Jim noted.

"Oh, you wait. You ain't seen nothin'!"

Sure enough, as they put the straight behind them, the
greenery-surrounded road, the farmyard opening up unto
not-so-traditional Americana surroundings.

Jim's jaw dropped open, as he said, "Will ya look at
that!"

Knowing the reaction he would get, or something close
to it, Cliff giggled out loud.

"Fancy, huh?"

"It's.... it's....'Wow!"

The giggle turned into an all out round of laughter
for Cliff.

"Nice sculture," Jim commented, hopping out of the
4x4.

"Not really my tastes, but yeah, it sure is something.
You don't see art work like this, here in this part of
the world. C'mon, let's go see what Emily fed her to
dog to make it sick!"

His eyes taking in all the modern art one had to
offer, Jim followed Cliff, up and over the wooden
bridge, leading to the front door.

"Doesn't all this freeze over in the winter?"

"Somewhat. Mostly, it's heated."

"Hmm.... they have a jacuzzi to match?"

"Yep!"

"I don't doubt it one bit," Jim states. "Tell you,
though, when we start brainstorming about our
bed'n'breakfast, let's not forget to leave the
jacuzzi's out!"

"Jacuzzi's? Like more than one?"

"Sure. Guys will want their privacy."

"Guys?"

"Sure," Jim began early on the brainstorming, pouring
out random ideas, "I think we should set up a `gay'
B'n'B."

"Might work."

"Might? Of course it will. But between you and me,
Cliff..."

"What?" Cliff answered, at if secret agents plotting.

"We've gotta steal some of these ideas of the
Quin-Shaw's."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Doctor up the drabby look of your place."

"Drabby, huh? What's wrong with the way I have it?"

Hands on his hips, another trait Cliff has picked up
on, seemed to make Jim think clearer. Right now, he
held the stance, tongue in cheek, trying to find the
words to smooth things over, after insulting Cliff's
decor abilities.

"Nothin'. I like antiques."

"You do, do you?"

Cliff could see through Jim, a mile away!

"Might be nice having a bridge like this from the
ranch to the golf course."

"Really? So you like my ideas?"

"The one I like the most?"

"Which one?"

"The jacuzzi and I think we should start with `our'
room?"

"Cool!"

"Dr. Madison, you know you can walk right in!"

"I know, Mrs. Quin-Shaw, but..." looking at Jim, Cliff
found his excuse, "being I have a visitor along with
me, I thought I should... you know?"

"A handsome one at that! Caroline," the blond woman
extended her hand.

"Jim Lucado," Jim responded.

"Lucado? Now where have I heard that name before?"

"My father owns the ranch up north."

"Why yes. Please, come in."

Entering, Jim whispers to Cliff, "Southern
hospitality?"

"You ain't seen nothin' yet!"

"C'mon y'all. Have a seat. We're in the middle of
lunch."

"C'mon, have a seat," Cliff tapped Jim on the stomach,
his attention on the two sitting opposite them.

"Hi," one of them stood, extending a hand, "I'm Lucas
and this is my brother, Sebastien."

Sebastien stood, offering a hand of greeting as well,
saying, "You can call me Seb."

Good thing Jim had taken Cliff up on parking his butt.
His crotch was on fire. He couldn't believe he would
have to sit there and eat, while digesting the twins
whom sat across from Cliff and he. Under the table,
Cliff, not oblivious to Jim's thoughts, used a knee
slap to break the trance. Also breaking the ice, Mr.
Quin-Shaw appears from the kitchen, a platter of
assorted vegetables atop.

"Steen, my friend, Jim Lucado."

Placing the platter more in front of the two guests,
he shakes Jim's hand. Like hell, Jim wished he could
have stayed parked on the wooden bench. He knew his
lust was making the red thong expand.

"Lucado? How do I know that name?"

As with Caroline Quin-Shaw, Steen combed him mind,
trying to place the name.

"His father owns the ranch over near Eskridge Hills?"

"Oh yes. Now I recognize it. So, you're the Lucado
boy?"

"That's me," Jim replied.

Even though most folks, especially new to the area,
hadn't an inkling of a second Lucado son, Jim always
had it in his mind, when introduced in this way,
wanting to set the record straight. However, now he
didn't see much point to it. Still, thinking about it,
put a downer in his personage.

"I hope you don't mind, Jim," Mrs. Q-S apologizes,
"we're vegetarians."

Smiling, Jim said he's an avid fan of veggies!

"Dr. Madison, something's wrong with Doodles. He's got
a bellyache!"

Emily Quin-Shaw, eight years old, appeared, holding a
small puppy dog, much as her father did the platter of
veggies.

Cliff, looking to her mother, smiled, backing himself
away from the table.

"I suppose I should take a look, before we begin
lunch."

After all, this is the reason Cliff had been here in
the first place. Jim's reasoning was much different.
He came to check out the nineteen year olds. While
Cliff pay attention to the canine, Jim carried on
conversation, asking the twins about school, sports
and anything else interesting to college students.

"Eskridge is a great college," Lucas tells Jim.

Seb cuts in with, "However, our main interest is in
cooking."

"Really?" Jim questions.

"Right," Lucas fills him in. "I'm the baker and Seb is
the main course man."

With the stirring up going on under the table, Jim was
ready for the main course, before the appetizer!

"Cliff," Jim changed his mind, "Dr. Madison and I are
opening a bed'n'breakfast. We will be needing some
chefs."

Of course, at the mention of the opening of a
bed'n'breakfast, Caroline was all ears.

"I think that's a wonderful idea! Just what Eskridge
needs. Something to stimulate the economy."

"I heard your organic farming does quite well?"

Steen offers, "Yes, we are doing very well. If you
decide to purchase from us, I'm sure we can work out a
generous discount."

Jim adds, "In exchange for advertisement?"

Steen liked the idea.

"I know we're not full-fleged chefs, but if you need a
`pirate crew', maybe we can help you out."

"First we have to figure everything out, but I'll keep
you boys in mind."

With a smile, Jim hoped the lunch lasted a substantial
amount of time, for something in his lap to sink!

Coming out from the kitchen, Emily followed Cliff.

"Mommy, Dr. Madison says we can't feed Doodles
anything but dog food!"

Like Mrs. Q-W was the one feeding Doodles table
scraps?"

"I'm glad you said `we', Missy," Emily's mom
mentioned.

Smiling, Emily knew she was guilty and it was nice of
her mom to take part of the blame, even though she
wasn't at all the cause of Doodles' bellyache.

All through lunch, Steen and Caroline talked up the
idea of a bed'n'breakfast. Mostly carrying on
conversation with Jim, they listened attentively to
his ideas. Steen even got up to get a pencil and
paper, already working out some figures for food.
Lucas told Jim, making the baking items on the
premises would save him tons of money. Of course, it
would also provide Lucas with a job! Even after the
meal was digesting, the Quin-Shaws extended their
hospitality, providing apertifs in the east wing, a
contemporary designed room with a wall of complete
glass, overlooking fruit orchards. Most of the time
monopolized their chatting with Jim, regarding big
plans. Leaving, in the late afternoon, Mrs. Q-S sent
home a blueberry pie.

"I made it fresh this morning," Lucas said, adding a
bright smile.

Half of the pair, Jim took in the beauty of the
blond-haired blue-eyed `babe'.

"So," Cliff drums up conversation, on the way home,
"which twin turns you on?"

"Which one? I can't even tell who's Seb and who's
Lucas!"

"I suppose your answer would be like mine, eh?"

Smiling, Jim's look made the agreement unanimous.

"Have you ever, um...."

"Really, Jim. You think I go after teenagers?"

"Why not? I would."

"Hmmm... maybe we should have them over to discuss
their employment?"

The two laughed at behaving like two horny bastards!

%

Copyright 2006 T. Chase McPhee
This story may not be sold, nor made part of any
collection, without prior consent from the author.