Date: Mon, 20 Aug 2018 23:17:13 -0400 From: Carter Podeski Subject: The Brownstone On Union Park: Chapter 6 GENERAL DISCLAIMER: This story contains sexual situations between adult males involving various aspects of the kink and fetish communities. If you find material of this nature offensive then you should not read any further. All characters in this story are over the age of 21. If you are under 18 years old in the US or under 16 in the UK you are not legally allowed to read this story. This is purely a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living or dead, or to any events that may have occurred, are purely coincidental. The author claims all copyrights in this story and no duplication or publication of this story is allowed (except by the websites to which it has been posted) without the consent of the author. Nifty does not exist without donations. If you enjoy these stories, please donate here: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html CONTACT/FEEDBACK: I enjoy getting feedback and I try to incorporate as many suggestions about the story and characters into subsequent chapters whenever possible. Feel free to e-mail me at carterpodeski@gmail.com. ________________________________________________________________________ The Brownstone on Union Park - Chapter Six - "That's Mr. Clay's private deck or as we joke, the hanging gardens of Babylon. He's quite the gardener. And he also has parking underneath that area but it's only accessible to him," Carter explained. "Can you believe that old queen wanted five hundred a month for the other spot under the deck?" James chimed in. "And he got it, too! You should have taken it when you had the chance," Carter reminded him. "Five hundred, just for a parking spot?" questioned Michael. "Well, it's the South End, after all," James replied, "Everything is out of the realm of sanity here." *** "So, where do you park if you don't have a spot?" Michael asked. "Street parking like everyone else. Pay a million dollars for your crumbling brownstone and it doesn't even include parking. That's Boston," retorted James and led the way up the stairs to the next level. Michael turned away from the window and looked at the staircase leading up to the next level and let out a small sigh. These climbs were starting to get ridiculous, and he still had to get down at some point. "Can you give me a hand, again?" Michael asked as he extended his left arm indicating to Carter that he could walk up with some help. "More sharp corners coming up," Carter explained and lifted Michael in his arms without even asking this time. Carter continued up the wooden steps with Michael in his arms showing the same grace and ease he did earlier that evening. Vintage cruise ship posters framed in simple black frames with white matting dotted the wall on the way up to the next level: "Holland America" ... "See the `Queen Mary' Southampton Docks" ... "Atlantic Starline: New York to London" ... "Classic Istanbul" were among the ones Michael could clearly read. Carter turned the corner but did not caution Michael to watch his head like last time. The turning radius was significantly wider than the stairwell into the apartment. He easily could have made it walking side by side with some help. "This turn doesn't look so bad," stated Michael only to be completely ignored by Carter. A simple "Shhhh..." was all he got back in response. They reached the landing at the start of the hallway but Michael's feet did not return to the ground. Carter readjusted his hold on Michael the way he would when changing the grip distance on a barbell mid-lift: bounce up the left side, readjust your grip, hold, then repeat with the right. Now, with a firmer grasp of Michael asked Carter, "How ya doing?" and smiled down at him? What could he honestly say, anyway? So, Michael nodded in agreement. The closeness he was feeling with this guy he barely met more than twenty minutes ago was unnerving. At the same time, the awkward vulnerable position he was in, being carried like an infant, was such an odd and unique sensation that his mind was having trouble reconciling the dissonance. He felt vulnerable like this; it was not a normal feeling to be physically held by another man. But what bothered him the most was that it seemed so comforting. If Carter was comfortable carrying him, who was Michael to disagree? And so, they continued the tour. James motioned for the two of them to follow him and brought them into the entryway of his room. "So, as you can obviously tell, this is my bedroom," James plainly stated while looking back at the two them. Carter cut in and derisively added, "Yes, notice the explosion of color!" James smirked and did not dignify Carter's interjection with a response and simply let it drop. It looked just like the picture from the listing but now Michael was able to see a full three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the earth tones and grays. The built-in bookcases with the large assortment of architecture books and stacks of magazines were directly in front of him now. Michael readjusted his gaze and squinted his eyes a bit looking at the magazine stacks more closely. "Architectural Digest?" Michael questioned with a raised voice? "Good eye. I've been collecting these since I was in middle school. My parents should have figured it out that I was gay then!" James said with an exaggerated laugh. "What's the one that's framed in the center?" Michael questioned while pointing to the framed copy. "That is the work of my firm. I cannot even begin to tell you how many hours we put into that project. Everything was scrutinized from top to bottom and even though it seemed like a nightmare at the time, I look back at it now and loved every second of that photo shoot," James explained. James motioned for Carter to back up and exit the room by making flicking motions with the tips of his fingers as if he was brushing away something invisible. Carter obliged and backed into the hallway and followed James into the bathroom separating the two bedrooms. Michael began to relax a little in Carter's arms and let some of the tension go in his back. Carter looked down for a short moment and let a gentle smile spread over his face but quickly returned his gaze to James as he flipped on the light switch. The bathroom was bright and white with an intricate Greecian White basket weave marble floor with a double vanity. Classic white subway tiles lined the wall midway up while large thick slabs of Calacatta marble encased the walk-in shower. Next to the shower was a heated towel rack with long white towels draped over the side. A separate door leading to a private toilet closet stood next to the walk-in shower on the opposite side allowing two people to effectively use the bathroom at once. More vintage posters decorated the parts of the wall that were not covered in tile: old Ivory soap ads framed in the same polished nickel to match the fixtures. Michael thought the layout was so smartly done. "So, there's actually a bathroom upstairs but it hasn't been completely renovated yet so we'll have to figure out something with two sinks and the three of us. There's plenty of cabinet space below though so that won't be a problem." "What's with all the Ivory soap ads?" Michael questioned. "You mean the most homoerotic ads ever made?" Carter asked. It was sort of true. One framed picture showed a dozen naked men taking a communal bath together while a sailor sprayed them with a hose as they all lathered up. It read at the bottom of the poster: "IVORY SOAP ... IT FLOATS ... 99 and 44/100 % PURE." Another one was a locker room scene with a naked guy's ass prominently displayed as he showered in the center while his fellow athletes looked on in various stages of undress. In another era, they could have just as easily passed for the classic Abercrombie ads from the nineties with all the gay innuendo. "Think about it. Who was buying soap during World War I when these ads came out? Sex-starved women away from their boyfriends and husbands fighting on the front lines. They were actually brilliant marketing in hindsight," James concluded. Carter walked passed James going further into the bathroom and stood at the entry of the glass shower door. Michael could see clearly into the shower now with all of its nozzles, steam vents, and polished nickel knobs. Carter looked back at James and cocked his head to the side to bring his attention to the shower. "Oh, yeah," James said as he realized all the intricacies of the shower system, "It's a steam shower so make sure you have the bathroom air vent going if you have it on full blast. The silver button by the shower door will start and stop the steam, and the dial next to it will adjust how much steam comes out. It takes a few minutes to start the steam generation but its heaven on a cold dry winter day. The other knobs adjust the spray jets on the side and the rainfall shower head above." "That looks remarkable," Michael added, "I didn't even know things like that even existed. It's so large." Carter added, "Yeah, you can actually fit a few people in there at the same time." Michael's heartbeat increased a bit and Carter could sense Michael was starting to tense up again. In any event, this shower was a far cry from the standard dormitory bathrooms Michael was used to over the last few years with mildewed shower curtains and cracked tiles. It seemed luxurious by contrast. "Michael, I'm joking," Carter said looking down at him still in his arms and then added, "But realistically you could." "Technically he's right. Carter could act out his very own Ivory soap fantasy in the shower if he wanted to," James conceded, laughed, and backed out of the bathroom. Carter followed and walked into his own room at the back of the brownstone. James flipped on the light switch to help the tour proceed. "And this is my room," Carter announced with little enthusiasm. Michael remembered the picture from his memory and realized this version was inherently messier than the photo from the listing. The navy-blue duvet cover on the bed was pushed down near the end clumped up in a pile revealing the white sheets underneath. All the red, white, and blue pillows were in scattered piles around the bed as well with some on the floor. "Notice how neat and clean Carter likes to keep his space!" James sarcastically jested. "Oh please, it's just the bed that's unmade," Carter countered. Michael's eyes darted back to all the pillows scattered on the bed and floor. It was true that it was not made up like James' room but the fluffy pillows made it look so inviting. He started to visualize Carter curled up in the comforter surrounded by the red and blue pillows. Michael wanted to climb in there right now but he was still immobilized in Carter's firm grasp. It was not a bad alternative. "And the sweaty gym clothes on the floor over there? Not to mention that gym bag which I've been on your case to get dry cleaned for weeks now. It reeks," James continued his complaint stream. "Ok, I'll give you that. The bag does need to get cleaned, but I'm not taking it to the dry cleaners. That's ridiculous," Carter suggested. James went over and picked up the black Adidas sports bag, full of gear, and brought it closer to the two of them so that it was within distance of their noses. Not noticing a reaction from Michael, James brought it within six inches of his face so that he could more easily waft over the lingering smell. The contents inside, or the material of the bag itself, certainly did have a strong aroma but it was not offensive to Michael's nose. It had the same cologne or deodorant scent mixed with a distinct smell of body odor. Somehow the positive association of the sandalwood downplayed the sweaty smells. In fact, Michael was beginning to inexplicably enjoy it even though he knew he should not. "Maybe some Febreze?" Michael offered. "There's no amount of Febreze in the world to rescue this thing!" James protested and flung the bag to the back corner of the room knocking it into the hand weight rack causing a smaller one to fall off with a thud. "Thanks, James!" Carter ironically said in response. He proceeded to take Michael over to his bed area and placed him down near the foot of the bed with the bunched-up comforter in a seated position. Carter returned to the weight stack and placed the small hand weight back in its proper position. He then picked up the tank top and the worn gym clothes, shoved them in the bag, and chucked the contents into the closet. "Happy now?" he asked as he turned back to James slamming the closet door. "If I don't have to smell it then yes," James replied and exited the room. Carter looked back at Michael, shrugged and said, "You see the sort of abuse I have to put up with around here?" Michael smiled in response and dug his hands further into the softly textured comforter. The whole evening was sort of socially awkward, terrifying, and exciting all at once. He could not easily tease apart all the feelings he was having from this encounter, but overall, he sensed it was a positive feeling. Carter began to walk towards Michael sitting on the edge of the bad and started to extend his arms indicating he would try to pick him up again. Seeing this, Michael felt that prickly yet tantalizing tingle extend down his back as he clenched the material in the comforter more tightly. Then he relaxed. "Why fight this?" he thought. Carter asked, "Ok, ready to go again?" Michael nodded and Carter did the now familiar maneuver of scooping him up with the same ease and finesse from before. On the way out, Michael recognized the wall of chrome picture frames in various sizes full of smiling faces. Most appeared to be from Chandler University Division II teams. Carter had shots throughout his years as a physical therapist: soccer, baseball, basketball, football, hockey, swimming, and wrestling. There were also a couple of photos of James and Carter together that if he had not known better could have been mistaken for a couple. They exited the room and Michael intuitively flipped the switch as they passed through the door meeting James in the hallway. "Oh, I almost forgot, the washer and dryer are in the closet adjacent to the bathroom door," James added, "And the door on the other side is the linen closet." James opened up the linen closet revealing a perfectly stacked set of the same beautifully crisp white towels that hung in the bathroom on the towel rack. They were all so uniformly stacked it reminded Michael of a store display at the big bath stores. Based on his college experience, this looked like the height of luxury and it was wonderful. "We have a rule here that we don't reuse towels. It makes it feel like we're at a hotel," James cheerfully added, "So, after showering just place the used one in the pull-out laundry basket below." Michael could barely believe it; the newness of the whole place actually did feel like a hotel. It was so different from his time at the studio apartment his junior year at college when everything fell apart at the slightest touch. The feeling that someone actually cared about their living space was a welcomed feeling. "Ok, one more flight of stairs to the top and then we're done," James announced.