Date: Wed, 24 Jan 2018 17:02:15 +0100 From: TChase McPhee Subject: ?GLaDiaToR EV?ry DaY? o7 % This work of fiction is set in the format of real-world situations. Identifying details to real people, alive or dead, is entirely coincidental in nature. % States and countries have various rules regarding reading or viewing `adult material'. It is up to you, the reader, to research this subject, abiding by laws and conscience. The pages of this story contain `adult material', intended for an `adult audience.' Bypass this warning at your own risk! % If sexual scenes involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if dude-to-dude sex stuff makes you wanna barf or is gonna screw up your mind, you should not read this story. % Sexual safety matters. Guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection and I don't mean going out and hiring a security guard...unless he gives your nuts and bolt a jolt! Hey dudes, if you have enjoyed reading NiFTy stories as much as I have over the years, consider adding some $upport for `internet $pace' or else I will have to start cutting handsome, hairy or steamy characters out of my stories. Do you dare imagine a story without any tops? http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html % `GLaDiaToR EV'ry DaY' o7 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee % Taking a brisk jog through the woods, after running around the side of the boys dorm, Travis looked back, to make sure Kelly and John were almost at his back. He caught some controlled gulps of air, waiting for the pair to come around the side of the building. "Damn this country air smells good," he pounded his pecs-like-Tarzan! In the few shorts moments spoken with Kelly and John, Travis has discovered a few things. Possibly, their kindled friendship might be turning into a more developed relationship, like in the loving sense, not opposed to loving two at once. On the other side of the coin, they needed training `badly', regardless of how they got out of shape in the first place. Travis, out of experience, had grown to be more of a thinker of the here and now. It's not which this suddenly came upon him, but was born out of past mistakes, in life decisions or relationships. In high school, he allowed himself to become smitten with a fellow student, a senior, captain of the high school football team, `Mike'. Fortunately for Travis, the footballer was the kind who didn't impose upon others to take care of his problems. He didn't need to. Mike's best bud, Jason, seemed to pickup on stuff like. Without Mike probably guessing, Jason knew he was being stalked. Like a good bud, he stepped in to help with `problems' like that. Jason wasn't taken aback at all about girls swooning over the high school football captain. Fact is, he welcomed it, because it threw off suspicions, when it came to not having a desire to date `a girl.' Though it helped Jason, having a straight-A average, it gave him excuse, to be in, instead of dating, hitting the books. He had had his suspicions about Travis, but now, in his senior year, it had come to the boiling point. Slowly, over last year, Jason had gathered mental notes and shortly at the start of their senior year, was almost certain there was a reason Travis was paying more attention than usual to the star athlete of the football team. Same way `girls' pay attention, Jason was certain about Travis, not which he had experience at these things, a dude wanting to make a move on another guy. Travis, he couldn't deny he was shocked out of his gourd, when from behind, at football practice one day, while hanging on the chain link fence, hears spoken into his ear, "Mike sure is something, eh?" Unfortunately for Travis, indeed his mind was elsewhere and not in the present. Off on some tangent, in a dreamworld, he was picturing Mike, in the locker room shower, naked, water streaming down his fine, wide-bod physique, all soap. Same moment, Travis' crotch was pressed up against the chained link fence. To say he was `showing', was an understatement. However, from a distance no one could tell. It was only, if a person were standing there next to him, could see the distinct anatomical trio. Travis couldn't believe, after being so careful, he allowed someone to sneak up on him, "what was that, Jason?" >From hanging on the fence, Travis drops off and faces the high school senior. Direct, to the point, Jason, well aware of Travis' cock and balls stenciled by the links, says, "I've been observing you for awhile now and I know you think Mike is a good player?" "Oh," Travis recoiled his heart from being in his `throat', "I thought you meant something else." Taking an educational guess, if Travis thought he meant something else, then most likely Travis did mean something else, which confirmed it for Jason, "I did," he smiled. Playing it cool, at least it's what he thought he was doing, "want to clarify that?" Right on, Jason got right to it, "you know, I'm not that bad looking in the shower, either?" "What tha fuck?" Travis turned on the adamant attitude. "You've got a helluva nerve, Jason!" Unlike Jason, being cool, calm and collective, Travis seemed to be losing it. Calm heads often lead to rational discussion, whereas anger serves to blow things out of proportion. "I know," Jason hung on the fence, one arm up, flashing a tuft of armpit hair, blazing out of the corner of his tank top, "and I apologize for that. I mean, I'm only out to protect Mike's interests. He and I, we `are' good friends, you know?" It wasn't a secret to anyone, Jason and Mike good buddies, but there was one thing disturbing to Travis, "hey, how come you're not out there on the field, practicing with the others?" "Twisted my ankle," is the excuse Jason gave. In reality, it was fine, but he thought the time ripe to reveal himself, "so I'm off the hook for practice today. But about Mike?" In the few short moments of thinking time, Travis had given thought to the matter, "Mike? What about Mike? I just like the game of football. That's all." It didn't float with Jason, his eyes darting down, then up, then eye-to-eye, "you always get a hard on, watching football?" Natural reaction, when Travis' jaw dropped open, one hand went to his crotch, "what tha fuck, Jason?" Unlatching his upper hand from the fence and like a monkey, climbs forward, reattaching, Jason is cool to say, "you know, it doesn't bother me at all, that you have your eyes constantly on Mike?" Smoothing the other hand down Travis' hairy arm, "just thought maybe I could do for you, what Mike can't. I mean," he was sly, coy, "Mike, he isn't into guys, like I could be?" It's then Travis showed they were both on the same page, "you're gay?" Fact that Travis allows Jason's hand to massage the follicles on his forearm, "no less than you?" Jason's `sprain' never did get better, but he was still required to finish out the year on the team. This didn't phase Travis, being Jason's new friend. Whereas Travis didn't really have an interest in sports, the two began spending much time in the library. They did attend football games. Lacking an interest in something, understanding how to go about doing it, could be key to liking something. Even after a season of football, Travis didn't care for being a spectator, but certainly enjoyed Jason's company. It also taught him another valuable thing about life, that a dude didn't need to have chiseled features akin to an Adonis, nor drop-dead gorgeous. At football games and practice. At first, his mind was indeed affixed on Mike, but soon found out, while fucking Jason in the locker room, he didn't need to think about Mike, such was the sensation he was feeling. Soon he found good looks cosmetic to the makeup of a relationship. Skin against skin, the sex, there were other things which drew two guys together. It helped Jason was a great cocksucker! Jason became his first relationship, though it was mostly sex and only occurred on school grounds, or the bus at away games. They never went back to each others' homes. Part of that was due to having anyone suspect they were gay. Travis knew that wouldn't float with his parents. When they graduated from high school, their parting was without all the whistles and bells of the breakup of a relationship. Mutually, they agreed they `might' meet someday again, but if not, wished each other well. College was a different story and Travis too did learn lessons from hooking up with guys. The feeling did reverse on itself. Whereas he primarily sought out a sex partner, Travis soon had dudes hitting on him! At first it was hopping from dorm room to room, or doing it in a shower stall in the common mens-room. Once, he connected with two guys he knew on campus, in a shower stall. Instead of getting right on down to the foreplay of cock-licking, sucking, leading up to grinding their nuts into the shower wall, they began with kissing. What was supposed to be three in a clandestine meetup, this type of funny business illegal in the dorm, Travis became more the lookout, instead of looking out for himself. He felt in the way more than a joiner. Even when the kissing brought one of them to glide a tongue down between pecs, till he fell to his knees, Travis was not hinted to come join in. With attitude, `fuck this,' he left them to fend on their own. Grabbing a towel, not even stopping to shave off his stubble, Travis left for his dorm room. At first he cursed them out, but after crashing into his bunk, thought flooded his mind, about all that mushy kissing. Perchance, could that have been why he and Jason never got past the sucking and fucking stage? Could not wanting to stop, take it easy, kiss, enjoy the pleasures of a more oral relationship been attributed to an unknown variable, or did age vs. experience play a part. A true believer of `things not happening without a reason', Travis got to thinking about putting the brakes on, stopping to smell the roses, or the coffee. It made him lick his lips, thinking about it; would he even make a good kisser? Driven with desire to find out, his perspective changed. Looking at his next guy-meetup there would be a lot of kissing. He knew it could get `hot', which had him thinking it could lead to licking, sucking, but definitely the highlight of the sexcapade would not lead to anal. This happened the very next day. He had purposefully stayed away from the sports facility, because he knew it would be too easy to fall in with athletes and he didn't exactly want to `wear out his cock!' As he found out with Jason, unlike Mike, too much of a good thing could very easily work against a person, making grades slip. With a new lust, to get with a guy, find out how important, or not, kissing and all that other calm foreplay could enhance a relationship, he headed, not for the gymnasium, but tennis courts. Twist of fate, he was approached by not the tennis coach, but one of the swimming trainers, "are you here for tennis?" It obvious, Travis says, "ah...yeah. Am I in the right place?" Thinking `tennis', that kind of `balls' weren't on his mind. For a college coach, Travis thought he was kind of young and as it goes, his eyes started to roam! One would think a person, looking to play some tennis, they were indeed in the vicinity of the tennis courts, nets, people playing the game, rackets swinging through the air, volleying with a ball being slung back and forth. "First time here?" He didn't wait for Travis to answer, "I'm Coach Svenson and I've been looking for athletes such as you." "Nice to, uh meet you," Travis says, not sure if that were the case, but based on looks alone, tall, blond, in shape, not bad looking, definitely it was worth giving the guy a chance to get to know. "How are your swimming skills?" Little did Travis know, one of the members of the swim team had to forfeit the rest of the year, due to exactly what he tried keeping up the standard for, low grade average. "I used to swim in our backyard swimming pool." He didn't even give Travis a chance to walk towards the courts, instead physically turning him at the shoulders, walking towards the gym building. "That's great. You should do well." Travis didn't know what he was in for, but the swim coach certainly had designs on him. Not which he minded being turned around, headed with compass bearing towards the opposite direction, Travis thought it would be nice to know, "exactly what team will I be playing for, Coach Svenson?" For sure it wasn't tennis and if it came to it, Travis had no intentions of playing football, nor basketball, if it came to that. "Well," coach continued to walk and talk, "we're not named after any animals. We're simply called the `swim team', but I'm sure you will find pride in working with some top notch athletes!" Travis thought it both comical and sensuous. Funny, "of course a credit to their coach, no doubt!" Taking it in stride, if anyone asked, Coach Svenson wouldn't deny, the top regimen of the swim team were all a result of his expertise and drive, "of course!" The sensitive part, left unsaid, Travis felt some kind of sensation, coach's lingering arm around his shoulder, like they've been buddies for years. Thus began Travis' collegiate swimming career, skills which took him to new heights. He was good at it. The eye candy wasn't bad either! Fortunately, early on in his collegiate years, swimming became almost as important as sex. Travis knew grades needed to supersede other activities. Being a key player, equal to the position Mike held on the high school football team, Travis accidentally fell into a spot on the U.S. Olympic team. He had a lot to make up, but with the help of his team buddies, he caught up to the expectations of that of an Olympian frame of mind. Paul, his mentor, also 2 years older than him, seemed to be in Travis' life day and night. Fortunately for both, even though closeted, they developed a nice relationship. However, with silver and gold in his hands, that was all Travis came away with from the Olympics. As with Jason, he and Paul parted as friends and not lovers! In his senior year of college, living off campus, shacked up with another senior guy, he had thought the love-bug had bitten again. However, nearing the end of the year, the plans he had for an after-collegiate romance, didn't match that of his boyfriend. Coming away from this, deeply hurt, Travis had made a pact with himself. He warded off dating, even eye contact, aware, after giving himself away with Jason. With longterm expectations, Travis was going to wait until he was at least in the job market, romance taking a second seat to his goals in life. That's how he wound up at the Magonagle complex, with a total change of environment and a need for a fresh start. One thing he didn't count on, was viewing the interaction of Kelly and John, how cute they were, how they carried on, mingled, acting so innocently. Much to his surprise, Travis felt the throbbing in his loins, not as a goal to sweep either of the cute couple off their feet, but a longing to pursue love once more. Waiting for them to turn the corner, Travis gets a deja vu reaction, upon hearing over his shoulder, "you must be Travis?" With a sharp turnaround, Travis expected to see Jason, Paul, or coach standing there. "Frank?" Nervously, "or should I call you Flex?" Smiling, the response was, "call me whichever you want!" `Dammit he's cute,' was all that pushed the pistons of Travis' brain, until quick recovery, "Flex it is!" Flex took Travis' right hand, "nice to meet you." Probably things could have gone more `the distance', if Kelly and John hadn't finally rounded that corner of the boys dorm, "hey there, guys!" This was one time Travis wasn't glad to see them, feeling a loss of electricity, with Flex dropping his hand. Though, as with eyeing up Mike on the football field, looking upon the shirtless runner, sweat trickling like slime down his back, it made Travis develop a thirst for something else. Even though Flex was sweating bullets, he proposes, "ready for a swift jog, before dinner?" Having turned around, obviously Flex was talking to him. Travis asks, "you speaking to me?" It's then Kelly says, "Flex wants to cool off, so I told him we can all take a swim in my pool, if it's okay with our trainer?" It seemed like Flex had had it in the bag, taut pecs, runner's build, fists up in front, pumping, replicating the rhythmic beats of hands and arms working in unison, while running in place, "that is if their trainer is up for it?" He detected it not a malicious maneuver, a smile in place of what could be constituted as true challenge to see who was the best, "I suppose I could use a cooling off." So, the quad took off. It stuck in Flex's mind, the cooling off, knowing a dive in the pool wouldn't be chilling the feeling of how he felt, since laying eyes on Travis! % Meanwhile, John was finding his own way, as was Ryan. Actually, Ryan Hull and Travis McIntosh probably would have been a good match. But fate would not have it that way. They were not in the same place in time and therefore, much as they held the same values regarding life, it wasn't in their hand of cards! Instead, whereas it seems fate plays a part in everything, a higher power may intercede and change all that. Ryan, allowing his brawn to overpower his senses, fell in with the attendance officer, Mark Kat. He was under the impression Mark was more than taking him under his wing, to acquaint him with the Magonagle grounds and system by which ordinary guys were granted super-human strength by the power of developing minds and brawny bods, by their own choosing. It was a let down, when nearing the boys dorm, Ryan views Mark greeting another dude, with not only a hug, but kiss on the lips! "Oh," Ryan puts it mildly, "you two are boyfriends?" To acknowledge in the positive, Mark says, "this is Luis Montero and `yes' to answer your question," he ushers Luis over in the pit of his arm, "we've been together since meeting up here at the farm...what has it been, two months? Three?" Meekly, Luis utters, "at the end of this month, it will be four." He didn't shake a hand, but says, "nice to meet you, Ryan." "Same here," Ryan let the gesture be, offering up a smile. On the road, guys have come and gone, but there have been a couple Ryan would have not minded staying behind, maybe developing a relationship with. Though, there was always John to think about and of that, his brother had been the more important digit of the equation. Now, within the grounds of the complex, even a day has given him the frame of mind, a secure environment in which to set loose his brother, knowing he was safe. Perhaps, being with Kelly, brother of the `owner', was part of it all. Regardless, now that he was already making friends, without attachments, he could pick and choose whom he wanted to `mate' with. There were also tons of guys walking about, some of which, after introductions, Ryan would remember the face, but putting a name to match, he knew he'd be asking again! His eyes all up and down Ryan's fox bod, Luis tried paying no mind, "are you going like that to dinner?" Everyday, almost the same time, Mark was asked the same question. Each time, following the query, he and Luis would head off to where they were lodged, shower and then, time permitting engage in some sweet love-making. This afternoon, a little different perspective, with Ryan standing there, Mark hated like hell to change up the routine, but, "I hadn't wanted to." Really, his stuttering gave Ryan the impression Mark would rather be doing something different, than giving him the grand tour, "I think I can find my way to the mess hall?" "Are you sure?" Mark asks. Luis answered for him, "Ryan's a big boy. I'm sure he can find his way!" Ryan thought it abrupt, but he could see, a man's private time was important. Too, it was a little nervy on Luis' part, seemingly shuffling some jealous attitude in there. "It's fine," Ryan wanted to assure Mark, "I'm a big boy." With the couple walking off, he could hear Mark scolding Luis, about why he indeed was acting jealous. However, that was that, said and done. Like he found out from traveling around, being with different people, older generations tended to have much to teach the younger set. He dropped the matter, not realizing where Luis fit into all that. Okay, so after that, Ryan physically clapped hands together, wiping them off, ready to move on. He was in a quandary. Scratching his head with a finger, as if it would stimulate the thinking response, he wondered which trail of the four-way to head off on. "Lost?!" Turning around, a group of men were running across the side trail, right behind Ryan's back. Even though he did hear, Ryan responds, "what was that?" It wasn't really the question which phased him, but more the furry front of the runner, running clear past. Still running in the place, Ryan hears him yell to his buddies he would catch up. "I asked if you were lost? I mean," he smiles, "you look lost?" "Yeah, I am," Ryan had to gulp a wad of spit, "lost!" "How could I not tell?" he giggles. As Ryan had the compulsion to read the fuzzy bod like a billboard, he was getting the same, eyes up and down. "I could show you the way?" And Ryan, he would not mind that at all, "I don't go with strangers." Both knew they were playing games. Still jogging in place, rugged arms lifting and dropping arms, in rhythm to the feet, "Richie Cornwall. And you are?" Persistence was a virtue and sensing he wasn't the only one wanting to play the `meet and greet' game, "Ryan Hull." "Where you headed, Ryan Hull?" "Boys dorm, though no one has really said exactly where I'm staying there." Not sure if that were a hint, Richie was ready to pick up on it, "there's an extra bed over at the worker's dorm?" Strangely, Ryan knew the boys dorm was a worker's settlement, but went with it, "really? Do I need a transfer from there, or something?" "Yup," Richie had all the answers. "We go to the boys dorm, pick up your gear and `transfer' it over there!" He laughed a jolly response, like at the punchline of a joke, which made Ryan do the same. There was only one part, which Ryan didn't mind at all finding out the variable, straight out asking, "you don't have a live in girlfriend, or anything?" He knew the snow job he was getting, Richie saying, "might come to that. That is, if I like you enough!" This time Ryan was laughing with Richie. A gentle tap shoulder, "this way," they took to running up the trail from which Richie and his buds had been jogging. % The beauty of owning a business, being on top of the totem pole, is the person in charge calls the shots. Though, having the personnel whom can wield the gavel of power, sometimes the man in charge needs to be called on to handle certain situations which arise from time to time, even if it's not his job. Jared was always the type, he wouldn't ask a guy to do a job he would not do himself. When he first took over the family business, he knew change was imminent. The old way business was being done, more on paper than an adjustment to the age of computers, would have driven the company into the age of the dinosaur. Fortunately, from college days, he had people to call on, to fill the shoes of those whom departed from the company, with the change of hands. Though, like one of those times, when Jared had to abdicate from the throne for a day, certainly he was not going to give Carlos a tough time over picking up a sibling from the bus stop in town. Sometimes duty called and whereas one of his employees, lower in the ranks should be in their car, scouting the town for Teyo, Jared had to admit, he was curious to see what this dude looked like! The name in itself, `who names their kid Teyo'?' made Jared laugh, driving the road-with-no-name. With a vision of Carlos in his mind, Jared was picturing Teyo as a big `lump of clay', similar to his worker's pudgy frame. He knew Teyo was the older sibling, but didn't get an age. Carlos was about 25? So, the brother could be anywhere above. Either way, of the stout replica, Jared hoped the front seat of his small sporty car was big enough to accommodate - `there was always the roof rack!' Finding the jolly in it all, Jared's rough tap on the steering wheel made it beep. "Oops!" he said out loud, braking for the cop car at the stop sign. If he wasn't already well known in town, the officer in the police car in front of him could have thrown on the brakes and reacted with slipping Jared a ticket, incurring a hefty fine. Well, he did react. Apparently in a daydream at the stop sign, he snapped out of it quick. Not utilizing the rearview mirror, Jared could see him do a full turn, looking back over the front seat, through the wired separator and rear window. Relaxed, he recognizes his buddy, not which he would allow anything in this town to stir up bad emotions. He liked Ansel Adamson...a lot! First local to connect with, the very first time he visited Coarshill Commons, to check out a parcel of land on which to build his new empire, was a run-in with the law. Actually, Jared, or rather his limo driver, en route from Danesburg Airport, had done no wrong. Officer Adamson was too curious for his own damn good, wanting to see who the hotshot was, on their way into town. It was an encounter which would turn the two into good friends. Fortunately, Jared's limo driver was into inviting an officer of the law into the rear of the car, built for many and not just one passenger. Finding out the people in the area were tolerant of different lifestyles, in particular, Ansel touched Jared in a way which would have them develop more than just a friendly relationship. Officer Adamson, being a local himself, knew all the places a vehicle could pull off-road, for a certain type of recreation. A wooded area, with a small clearing was perfect for fitting a big limo and patrol car. Secluded, fenced in, as Ansel knew this, it was part of the police academy training facility. Only, being a small, country-like town, it didn't have the personnel utilizing it like a big city would. Therefore, being naked in the back of the limo, the three getting it on, no one would be around to pick up rockin' on its tires like a night club at full capacity! Jared never adhered to labels. When he was younger, with Kelly, he could see what kind of a lover his brother was destined for. So, whereas he pictured himself as a `top' and with honest prediction, his bro a `top', he knew the equation would come out to zero. Especially, after the incident with Kelly getting whooped in the basement, Jared's biggest grudge was with himself. So, it became no big infringement on his pride to fall on his knees and show his younger brother his expertise at cock-sucking! It wasn't a oneway street. Sometimes, when the urge grew like a fire, he topped. However, what Jared did come to find out, he liked `bottoming' activities. So, that first time, upon meeting Ansel, he didn't mind at all putting the finishing touches on a strip-down, pulling the officer's briefs down as he sank out of his chair. It completely blew Ansel's mind, thinking this business mogul, by title and appearance could be a hard fucker. Literally! Not only the cop, but the limo driver too was convinced Jared the type of guy who comes up from behind, divides and conquers. Instead of decided roles, Jared went with the flow, taking mental notes. Of the limo driver, chances are this was a one-shot deal. However, dealing with the law, let alone a `local', Jared knew he would be seeing Officer Adamson again, so jotted down some mental notes. When it came to the, code name - BaDSaM, Jared was thrilled to find the Ansel `into it'. It's just that, when going beyond the usual love affair and dabbling in other areas of expertise, this is when he more preferred `top' status. Always exceptions to rules, like bending them for his younger brother, Jared went along with playing bad puppy to the two men. This is where the rivalry came in, the limo driver, Eric jealous of Jared, wanting some of Ansel's sausage for himself! Jared, bending this way or that, got a kick out of Eric's approach, `can I have some of that?' So, Eric took on the role of second-alpha. Wasn't so bad, tasting Jared's spit on Ansel's tube. Kneeling there, scratching his head, Jared was in a quandary. Did he feel like bending over, licking Eric's ass crack, or filling it? Before Jared could react, Ansel had roughly pulled Eric off by his bushy scalp, tapped him on the shoulder, telling him to `about face'. In doing so, Eric yelped out loud, the cop slapping him hard on the butt with his hand, with warning, `too slow!' `Oh man, that's gotta hurt,' was Jared's reaction, but softened his concern when Eric thanked Ansel for doing so. No biggie though, Jared slipping his 7c onto Eric's tongue and, because the limo driver seemed to have the edge on how to treat a hard shaft, felt lips cupped around the whole barrel as the tip traveled to the back of the mouth. Jared wouldn't recall, but there on in, Ansel would joke with him, the words he used when his cock slipped past Eric's vocal cords, `oh, Eric!' Very much like fighting siblings, Ansel would always look for the opportunity to mock, `oh, Eri-i-i-ic!' >From Eric's point of view, even though this wasn't the first time his ass was invaded, it was a first for being worked at both ends simultaneously. Thinking, after all parties had shot their loads, he might be able to pull a big tip, he chanced mentioning it. Maybe not the police officer, but he knew Jared was loaded. Before Jared could even respond, Ansel, wiping his cock off on Eric's briefs, told him he's lucky he wasn't being ticketed. When Eric replied, `for what', Jared curious himself, Ansel enlightening them both, `loitering on town property.' Eric disputing the fact, that Ansel had led them there in the first place, Jared was aghast when the officer fingered him as his `witness.' After that, even though Jared knew he could move beyond the law, he respected it. Just the way he is, or maybe it was respecting what Ansel stood for. They became friends and except for 2 times, meeting up for some leather event, playing with toys, they live separate lives. That is not to mean they didn't socialize on occasion. Which is why, `social' consisted of an arm, stuck out a window, placed high in the air, middle finger extended! On occasion, passing each other on the street, if not accompanied by someone who would not be `understanding', Ansel's cordial good morning could follow up with a `how about a little action?' Jared's reaction, to Ansel's thumb tucked into his belt, four fingers patting his uniform, not far from his zipper, a mental picture. Most of the time on a mission, for the business, Jared would answer, `you've got Eric's number!' Yeah, Ansel had Eric's number, but the arsenal of college frat, driving through town, not adhering to the speed limit, were enough to keep a man's pleasure center active. Sometimes, thinking back to that first meet, the lawman would stir up conversation, asking if Jared had seen Eric lately? He would answer in the negative, but respond with, if he did hire a limo, he'd make sure when the driver crossed into town limits, he was over the speed limit! Knowing he wouldn't be any trouble, Jared's answer to the arm of the law, was doing the same, literally taking the phrase to heart, `do unto others.' Only, since Ansel had done it to him first, he thought it in an obliging way of getting even. Ahead of Officer Adamson, having pulled around, Jared gunned the gas pedal and tore out of there. With care he ran the stop sign, sideswiping the patrol car. Certainly, part of the get-even tactics, Jared's arm stretched out the window, high in the air, middle finger engaged. Depending on the mood he was in, Ansel might catch up and pull him over, for more than issuing a ticket. Could be for some rough stuff, or he might have Jared follow him over to that same clearing where they met. Instead of rough stuff, Ansel might pull the sixpack from his trunk, lay a blanket out on the ground and have some comfortable quality time. He wasn't all leather'n'ropes. There was a soft, sensitive, sensual side to his interpretation of two bro's, drawn to each other. Today Jared no time for shenanigans. Ansel had time on his hands, until doing something in the line of duty, put him back on town payroll. In all respects, he planned on proceeding straight ahead, pulling Jared over. However duty did call. `The audacity of that boy!' he called it, a well-known collegiate, speeding right by, in front of him. Though, lustful saliva instantly built up in Ansel's mouth, upon recognizing the sports car of a local boy, probably late to his next class. He had this guy down pat, knowing `Jeremy' probably saw him from a distance. `They'll do it every time!' A few feet from the stop sign, Ansel knew the drill, stepping on the gas until the frat boy's car was a peg over the limit. He really didn't mind the cat and mouse game, it ending up, not a Coarshill Commons Community College, but the same clearing he, Eric and Jared had their sexual soiree! Now, Jared was the one looking through his rearview mirror, back window, following the scene from a tailgate view. Seeing the sports car whiz by, Ansel taking off to the west, lights starting to flash, sirens blaring. Where Jared was concerned, conversation with his cop friend would have amounted to telling Ansel he had business, the two going their own ways. Respect and boundaries were key to being friends. But he smiled, thinking the speeding motorist a consolation prize, in his absence! `Oh well,' Jared looks again, this time playing it safe, making sure no one was in his lane, pulling from the shoulder, `some other day!' When they did lay out on the blanket, guzzled brew and slowly got naked, he and Ansel would rarely talk business. The police office was a powder keg of stories. Much like Jared was a counselor, Ansel would unload stories about this dude, or that one. Jared wondered if the speeding dude just now, was the one who allowed Ansel to strip down, tie him, staked out, bent over a picnic table and pound his cock and balls into the rough wood? The color of the sports car matched the story. Driving and thinking about it was almost like being there. He always got hard when Ansel told those `boy-stories', so Jared had to get a grip. If he allowed his thought to drive him on, there would be another thing to think about; how he was going to get rid of his `tent', before reaching the bus station. Manning up to it, he knew he could get the dirt from Ansel later on. With his mind shifting gears, Jared thought out loud, "fat-boy-Teyo, fat-boy-Teyo," and entering the town proper, "where are you, boy?" Carlos Aguado was an adequate employee. He did his job, which at the moment, Jared couldn't recall what that was. That's why he had trusted workers under him, so he didn't need to know everyone else's business. Though, he did know young Carlos did not have a high position in the upper ranks of Magonale management, solely because he fell under the jurisdiction of part of Kelly's entourage. Regardless, he did have a mental picture of the lad's physical frame and based on that, searched the town streets for Teyo. Scanning main street, there were a few men Jared would rather be picking up, instead of some chump. He slow way down, cruising the bus stop. No one was sitting on the bench, except some old lady with a bird cage! It was enough to distract, Jared chuckling. "Dammit!" he exclaims, seeing the bus, which probably whizzed into town fifteen minutes ago, leave by way of main street, in the opposite direction. "If only," he finishes his thought mentally, condemning himself for not finding out exactly what this `Teyo' looked like, or maybe a usual style of dressing. Right on down main street, Jared's sports car made the turn around, probably where the bus did the same. Already he had developed some clout around town. Perhaps in a few years he would have some centuries-old statue, dead center of town, replaced with something more modern. Not his main concern, Jared did finally wise up and get on his cell. "Yeah...hello...Kenny?" Most trusted person of worth, Jared knew whom to oversee all operations at the `new' Magonagle estate. After implementing the revised chain of command, Jared found Aty, whom oversaw security. Jared wanted him to head up `estate management'. With beginnings, Jared learned to trust the word of those whom seemed wiser than himself in choices. Indeed, Aty was better at choosing security personnel, setting up perimeters and everything else which had to do with keeping the grounds secure. On the other hand, he should have put his trust in a man who he's known since a teenager, by both friendship and trust. Trusted, because around the homophobic atmosphere of the old Magonagle `regime', Kenny chose `him' to open up about being gay, not the other way around. Jared also learned much about the gay lifestyle, so it's not like he never spoke with Kenny. Of Teyo's application, Kenny didn't have a clue. The house manager, left Jared's trail cold, `not my yob.' By Slovak descent, Kenny didn't have an accent, but when he needed one, made it up! It was like a comedy routine, well known from over-performance, Jared's rebuttal, `well, make it your yob, Kenny!' In a minute's time, Jared's phone was loaded with a picture of Teyo. To a disconnected call, Kenny would laugh, `you're welcome, boss!' The only thing amusing to him now, in this state of being peeved, was Jared standing in the zone used for patrol cars, outside city hall. With the inevitable, having to wait, Jared wondered how Ansel's pursuit went? Sitting there, after receiving a texted description of Teyo, lo and behold, Jared needn't wait for the pic to be transported to his cell. Kenny's worded picture painting a portrait of the man on the sidewalk, moving towards him, he tabs his phone off, `never mind, Kenny!' Dropping his cell on the passenger seat, Jared exits his car and approaches the tall individual, "Teyo Aguado?" He could have had it wrong, but with, "that's me," Jared holds out his hand. Burdened with a knapsack on his back, a suitcase in each hand, Teyo does the natural thing, "oh thanks," pawning off one to Jared. Thoughts flooded Jared's mind, mentally thinking, `what do I look like, some busboy?', but instead, mister tall-dark-and-handsome left him with an instant `hot' impression, "I'm Jared. Welcome to the company." It was always like that. The company first, everything else, estate, store, whatever encompassed the kilt business, second. "I'm glad Kenny could accommodate me." It did tickle Jared, wondering what had transpired between Teyo and his estate manager, to overlook the fact, he had the last say on hiring. "I'm certainly happy my human resources manager could arrange for your employment. Kenny, he is a valuable resource in the company." "Nice car," Teyo walks over, checking out Jared's wheels. "I once had one like it. Bought it used. Was a real fixer upper." At this point, Jared didn't care about titles and his pride getting stepped on. While Teyo talked up about himself, Jared was pulling away thoughts of where `tall, dark and handsome' would fit within the Magonagle empire. Too, his eyes scanned his new employee from head to toe and back, "yep, a beauty indeed." No dumb-bunny, Teyo turns abruptly, "oh?" "I meant, the car," Jared was quick to return. What Jared could never tell, unless speaking with the employee, what was transpired between Kenny and the new hiree. Only by conversation, could Jared find out if an new employee knew `about' him. Though, with anyone, you don't present the fact a dude being gay, right out. Regardless, Jared had an idea Teyo `knew.' Kenny wasn't the only person in the picture. There was Carlos! Apparently it was the case, Teyo not reluctant to keep it hid, "at least my brother was right about one thing," he stood there, back to the car, ass casually leaning, legs crossed, arms placed to the sides. "What's that?" Jared wondered. "You are very hot man!" Jared's jaw dropped wide open, after which he proceeded to do something which rarely happened, not having a clue what to say! "Yeah," Teyo, giving up his relaxed position, standing tall at 6'3-inches tall, walking towards his new boss, "but don't blame Carlos, about what I know." Trying to fake his way through it, Jared regains composure, "Mum's the word, but people know I am. Gay. I suspect, without being told." Immediately liking Jared, not for the reasons Carlos had built him up, stature, having money, other things, Teyo says, "not which I'm saying this to get ahead in the company," wanted to say, `in your pants,' "but I like hot, masculine men." Not which Jared had hoped things progressed this fast, he could handle a man making the moves on him, "well then, I guess we should get a move on it?" Only way Jared sought to survive all this, was to stuff the luggage into the back and get on their way. Only, he couldn't manage the back pack. "Allow me," Teyo takes the liberty of pawing Jared's arm. He could have taken offense, a new employee daring to manhandle him out of the way. However, the static electricity made Jared smile. Fortunate in more ways than one, Teyo's ass was in front of him. "Sure you can get it in there?" His mind wasn't really on concern that Teyo's backpack would fit, but the tightness of the tall hunk's jeans! Turning around, slamming the door shut, Teyo says, "I said I would, didn't I?" A mug smile on Teyo's face, Jared says, "uh, the door you just closed...it's the only entrance to the front seat?" It looks like Teyo had it all in the bag, "oh, then allow me." Jared was flabbergasted, but at the same time felt trusting of this new employee, who right now was acting like limo drivers he's engaged for airport service. Holding the door, Teyo stoops himself, "your car, sir?" He held out his hand, like a serving platter sat atop. "You want me to get in?" Not which he intended on calling the shots, Teyo was only suggesting, "keys?" The `serving' hand made a little jerk. He could have made a fuss, possibly got Kenny on his cell again, but Jared was rather amused by all this and in giving in, `well, why not?', he handed the keys over, "I hope you're a good driver." With courtesy, Teyo helps rework the seat to accommodate Jared's long legs, "get out a minute." Quite humored over this rigmarole, Jared stood there and watched Teyo adjust the luggage in the back seat, move the seat back, replacing the knapsack. When all was done, he stood there with one of his suitcases on the sidewalk. "Hmm," he tapped his lips. Then, without flinching a muscle, other than the ones which controlled his arm, reaches behind himself, "give me your belt." "My belt?!" Jared responds. "Yeah," Teyo reaches down, picks the rectangular piece of luggage up by two corners, tossing it on the roof, "this will have to ride on top." It could have been a comical scene, two men on main street, unbuckling belts and removing them. One would think they were going to go farther! "No, keep it," Teyo says, when Jared goes to offer his belt. Walking around to the driver's side, it became clear to Jared, "oh, I get it." What he got was each man using their belt to secure the suitcase to the roof. Teyo jokes, "watch it that your pants don't fall down!" Jared was entertained none the less, but to allow one of his employees to get ahead of him, "I think I feel a chill on my ass-crack." Teyo didn't say, not really knowing Jared that well, but also being they were smack dab in the middle of the public sector, left it to his imagination how he'd like to respond to that wise-ass-crack! After putting the finishing touches on the suitcase, Teyo and Jared stood there on the flanks of the sports car, just staring, smiling... Until a patrol car pulls up behind. On one-to-one, the police officer could take on a sweeter demeanor, but in front of others Ansel barks, "you know you're parked in a police zone, citizen?" Perfect way to break the ice, Jared hands over his first order of responsibility, "you'll have to take that up with my new limo driver!" At which point Jared pulls his door open and plops his ass down in the seat, slams it shut. Of course, Teyo thought it `dirty', especially when they only met minutes ago. Facing an officer of the law, "hi there, officer," he read the brass bar on Ansel's chest, "Officer Adamson," extends a hand, "I'm Teyo Aguado." One thing about Ansel Adamson, either the first response was favorable, or you were in deep shit! "I see. So, you're Jared's new limo driver?" Good thing for Teyo, Ansel was shaking his hand. Though, Ansel was still feeling him out. One thing which stoked the cop's curiosity about these out-of-towners, was the background check. "And how long have you had the position of Jared's personal driver?" For certain, Officer Adamson knew, only Jared was in the car at the stop sign, which left the answer open-ended. "Oh, I'd say about 2-minutes, tops!" That one little `truth', made for consequences, leading Ansel to, "well then, welcome to the town. I hope you'll like it here." By right, his own intuition, Teyo was liking it more and more, "thanks for your warm welcome, Officer Adamson." "Jared's staff, we go by first name basis. Call me Ansel." "That's cool with me. Call me Teyo." `The nerve,' Ansel thought, but if he played his cards in favor of winning, this tall, dark and handsome stranger might just be a good addition to his leather playground, "yeah, I'll see you around. Drive safely." What Jared had learned, while Ansel was checking out Teyo, Kenny had verbally filled in the blanks of his new driver's history. Starting off, Kenny had told him Teyo and Carlos had much the same brotherly relationship as he and Kelly. At which point Jared informed him he didn't have time to `beat around the bush'. So, in broken thoughts, Kenny spelled out Teyo helping Carlos through being bullied at school, which required doctoring up his brother from time to time, when beaten up. There was more history there than Kenny could spew out, which had him shortening it to what mattered, Teyo and Carlos' relationship akin to what he and Kelly had built up. Only difference were the circumstances leading to it. After terminating the call, Jared sat there and dwelt on it, until the driver's door opened and keys tapped on his window. Power-rolling his window down, Jared asks, "what?" It wasn't Teyo, but the `tin badge.' "That speeder on the road, which I know you noticed, was your man, `Mike,'" Ansel reports. "Mike Ewing?" it rung a bell, on Jared's medical team. "Seems someone stubbed a toe while working out for your Highland Games. I told him to slow down." Teyo jumps in with, "Highland Games? What's that?" More importantly, whenever Ansel brought it up, Jared followed it up with, "by the way, when are you going to get your ass over there, to practice?" "I've got the whole fuckin' town to police, not to mention speeders like your man, Mike!" It was always the same excuse, `work', which Jared had tired of hearing. Whether Ansel was interested or not in participating, Jared couldn't wait to see Ansel's bare bod, sun glistening off the sweat and working his ass off! "Don't give me any of your fuckin' excuses, Ansel. You promised and a promise is a promise and I'm holding you to that promise!" At which point Jared signaled Teyo to drive off. `Speaking' Jared's language, like thinking his thoughts, Teyo tore out of there, leaving rubber burns across the yellow lines in the no parking zone. The very thought, of snubbing the town police officer, the sound of screeching tires, made Jared laugh out loud. Like Jared, a rearview mirror watcher, Teyo says, "I hope he doesn't tail us." Knowing some of the reasons, Jared picks, "expired driver's license?" Laughing out loud, Teyo says, "could be, if I had one!" The speeding didn't keep up, Teyo down to 25 m.p.h. by the time they reached the only red light in town, a few feet up the boulevard. "Eh, no worries. You'll have one in no time. In case you didn't notice, I've got connections!" When Jared tried moving the seat to a more reclining position, it wouldn't budge. "Oops, sorry about that," Teyo says of the lugguage blocking the seat. "Oh," Jared relaxes anyway, hands behind his head, "I can think of a few ways of making it up to me!" % Copyright 2018 T. Chase McPhee `GLaDiaToR EV'ry DaY' and developing segments of this story, may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.