Date: Thu, 10 Jul 2003 00:29:05 -0700 (PDT) From: Michael Garrison Subject: Two Lives - Two Loves: Chapter 5 This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. This story also deals with love and consensual sexual activities between men. If you are not of legal age, reside in an area where viewing such material is illegal, or are offended by such themes, do not read further and leave this site now. The author retains all rights to this story. Reproductions or links to other sites are not allowed without the permission of the author. Two Lives - Two Loves Chapter 5 My eyes gradually fluttered open when Sunday morning rolled around. I stretched one of those terribly satisfying stretches and lay back in the rumpled sheets for a moment, feeling Jon's arm draped over my waist. Gently, I moved it behind me, trying not to wake him up, and slid out of the bed. Eight-thirtyish, the clock read. After doing the morning trip to the bathroom, I went over to peek out the drapes to see what looked like the beginning of a sparkling day. Pulling on some underwear and my robe, I just couldn't keep my eyes off of Jon. Even asleep he looked totally hot and I loved the way his golden hair always seemed to be falling down over his eyes in the sexiest way. I'd completely fallen for this guy and I wanted nothing more at that moment than... Coffee....get some coffee, is what my body was screaming that it wanted. First things first, I thought. Mr. Shepard had a really well equipped kitchen with really expensive equipment. The coffeemaker was no exception to this rule. I had never seen one like it before. Apparently, it would grind the whole beans, filter the water, steep the grounds and then, finally, keep the coffee in a hermetically sealed carafe. I was a little surprised that it didn't automatically combine hydrogen and oxygen directly from the air to create the water! I just wanted my coffee...that's all...just give me my fucking coffee before I take this Coffee Production and Filtration System and heave it out the window! Sorry for losing my cool, but that first cup is an important thing and absolutely nothing should stand between a man and his first cup of the day! After more than a few minutes of anxious study, I thought I figured out how it was supposed to work. Now, the harder part...finding where he hides the coffee! This time I got lucky and found it in the refrigerator right away. Whole bean Starbuck's French Roast. Magnificent. I got it all ready, pushed the start button and crossed my fingers. It made a horrendous noise as it ground the beans but a few minutes later out it dripped...black gold...the morning elixir of life. God, what a tedious ordeal to have to go through. The caffeine flooded my system quickly and all my anxiety was swept thankfully away. I switched off the alarm and opened the doors out to the patio. The morning air was still cool and it felt good on my face. Sitting down in one of the oversized oak chairs, I just relaxed, easing my way into the day. Coffeemakers aside, this was definitely the way to live. Two weeks to go before summer classes started...nothing to do but enjoy life and screw around, literally and figuratively. Jon woke up a while later and we headed out for breakfast. After gorging ourselves again, we decided to put the top down and just cruise around and see what the town had to offer. Like most suburban communities, there really was no center to the 'Town Center'. Basically, it was just the big indoor mall, low-rise offices, gas stations, fast food joints and strip malls floating in an ocean of parking lots. Not terribly picturesque. The commercial stuff started trailing off into residential areas. Even less scenic. A legion of tract homes that were all different yet all the same. We could see a few nice homes but they were mostly set back in gated communities; heaven forbid the masses should come calling. There were a couple of small clapboard churches here and there and that was about it. We decided that we'd seen enough and turned around to head home. On the way back in, Jon called my attention to a shop I hadn't noticed on the way out that had a large diver's flag over the door. I was always amazed by what I didn't see when I was driving. "Hey, this'd be a good day for you to show me how to dive," he said, remembering the gear I'd brought with me. "You got any equipment," I asked. "Just my trunks," he said with a slight grin as he ran his hand over my thigh. "You better chill before I run us into that ditch," I cautioned as I turned the car around. "Good," I thought aloud as I pulled into the lot, "they're open. You got some plastic on you, 'cuz even the basic stuff isn't cheap." "Yeah, I'm set." I checked to make sure I had my C-card with me. Some places wouldn't rent to anyone who couldn't prove they were certified. This wasn't one of those places; the guy looked like he needed the business. It was a typical small, kitschy dive shop with the netting hanging all around, fake fish strung from the ceiling, driftwood and cork bric-a-brac scattered here and there, and let us not forget the obligatory shark jaws hanging behind the counter. An older guy was by himself minding the store. He was nice enough but had the feel of a diver who'd been bent more than once and had opted for dry land; I didn't ask. I explained that I was certified and I wanted to show Jon a little bit about diving at his pool, hoping to get him interested in taking a course. The guy, David-call-me-Dave, couldn't have been any more helpful. We got Jon set up with his mask and snorkel, a pair of boots and fins. Dave was really helpful in explaining everything about the equipment to Jon in excruciatingly minute detail. I don't think Dave had too many customers. I was finding it to be almost painfully boring but Jon seemed to hang on every word Dave said. Jon, fortunately, was a really good listener. "...but what do I need boots for," Jon asked. "'Cuz the straps'll cut into the back of your ankles, plus they make the fins fit a little more snug," he explained. At long last we had him set up and I thought Jon was going to die when Dave told him, "...with tax that comes to $165.75." "How much?" came Jon's startled question. Dave and I just quietly laughed to ourselves. "Yeah, that initial sticker-shock catches some people by surprise," he said. "But this is the cheapest part of it." "He's right," I said, tapping Jon on the arm. "Pay the man." Jon shook his head and handed Dave his credit card. "Be glad you're not getting the whole setup," I said. "You would've had a heart attack, then." Dave laughed in agreement, "Yeah, this ain't the cheapest sport around, that's for sure." After finishing with Jon, I rented an extra tank for myself and two for Jon along with a regulator and a BC. We were set for the day, and Dave helped us load everything into the truck. Driving back, Jon was excited about learning to dive but was still a little bitchy about the cost of the gear he'd just bought. That's one thing I didn't really understand about Jon. He came from money; we both did but his people had tons of it. So I couldn't understand why he would get so pissy about, what was for him, pocket change. I tried spreading a little oil on the water, pointing out what a great time we were going to have, how he'd get his money's worth by diving regularly, etc., etc. and that seemed to calm him down. Gradually, we regained our upbeat moods. That is, until a wave of tense apprehension rolled over us as we came up the driveway and saw the two Sheriff's Department cruisers sitting in front of the house. * * * * "What the hell are they doing here?" I said. "I don't know," Jon said, "...but be cool. We're just a couple of fratboys housesitting for my uncle." "I'll let you do the talking." "Well, let's not get jumpy. We haven't done anything." My heart was still pounding a little more than normal as I brought the car to a stop behind the second cruiser. Two Sheriff's Deputies were on the porch, a man and a pretty burly young woman, and turned around when they saw us pull up. I wiped my sweating palms on my shorts before getting out of the car. Just what exactly is it about police that can make even Mother Theresa feel guilty for no particular reason? Jon cleared his throat. "Hi, can I help you?" he called. "Good morning," the male Deputy said. "I'm Deputy Jackson; this is Deputy Cunningham. Are you Mr. Shepard?" he asked with practiced professionalism, knowing that Jon was just impossibly young to be the owner. I noticed his partner's hand resting nonchalantly, but steadily, on her holstered Glock. "I'm his nephew, Jon Shepard," Jon said, extending his hand, which the Deputy shook. "And you are...?" the Deputy asked me. "Brad Williams," I replied. "I'm a friend of the family." The Deputy nodded. "Is Mr. Shepard around?" he asked. "No, he's out of the country on business," Jon explained. "My friend and I are housesitting for him." Hearing this, Deputy Cunningham's hand slid slowly away from her sidearm. "Well, we got a call from your security company about a possible break-in. I got here about ten minutes ago. I called in Deputy Cunningham for backup when I found the front door standing open. We were about to check it out when you showed up," the Deputy explained. Jon was very much surprised. "I know I locked that door," he said. "I checked it twice before I set the alarm when we went out." "You'd better wait out here while we look around, then," he said. We paced around outside for fifteen or twenty minutes while the Deputies searched the house. Finally, Deputy Cunningham stuck her head out of the door. "Mr. Shepard, you can come in now," she said. A little apprehensive, we walked into the front hall. "There doesn't appear to be anyone here but us," she said. "But could you walk through with us to see if you notice anything missing?" We slowly walked from room to room. Jon and I both scrutinizing everything to make sure all was as it should be. "Oh, by the way," Jon asked. "Did you check the basement?" "Yes," Deputy Jackson replied. "There was nothing down there except for a really nice wine collection." Front to back, top to bottom. Nothing was out of place. After searching in almost every nook and cranny, we were satisfied that nothing had been stolen. "I guess it was just a false alarm," Jon said. "Maybe, maybe not," Deputy Cunningham said. "The lock doesn't look like it was jimmied, but you never know. The alarm might have scared them away. And you're sure this door was locked," he asked again. Jon had an odd look on his face, like he was about to start second guessing himself. "I'm almost positive that I locked it," he started, "...but the more I think about it..." "We might have left it open, Jon," I said. "We were in kind of a rush going out this morning." "Hmm," Deputy Jackson thought aloud. "If that's the case, could be the wind pushed it open. You'd've thought you'd see a broken contact on the alarm panel before you left, though." "One of those freak things," Deputy Cunningham offered. "You might want to have the alarm company come check it out. "Thanks, I will," Jon said. "Well, I think that's enough excitement for one morning," Deputy Jackson said, looking around one last time. "We'll be pushing along if there's nothing else." "I can't think of anything else there'd be," I said. "Thanks for getting here so fast," Jon said as we all shook hands. The Deputies gave us their cards and told us not to hesitate to call in if anything else happened or if something did turn up missing. "And just in case," Deputy Jackson continued, "...you might want to keep the doors locked even when you're home. There's more than a few nut cases out there that might like a crack at this place and it's just a safe habit to get into." "Thanks, Deputy," Jon said, "We'll do that." Then they drove off down the entry drive, kicking up a small dust cloud as they went. "No," I said, turning to Jon, "no, now I remember you locking that door. This is getting a little strange, Jon." "I thought I had," he said. "Let's just double check." Again, we went through every room in the house. We looked in every closet, checked under every bed and behind every curtain. Nothing. The basement? Nothing. Not even the dust on the wine bottles was touched. "Well," he started, "It doesn't look like anything's wrong," Jon said as he went back to the front door, double locking it this time. "It must've been some freak thing." "Yeah," I said, not entirely convinced. It didn't have the feel of someone having tried to break into the house, but it didn't have the feel of just some odd occurrence, either, although I had my suspicions. My stomach was still a little knotted and I felt cold, for some reason. I'd felt like that since we walked in with the Deputies. Thankfully, that feeling was starting to subside. "C'mon," Jon said, slapping me on the arm. "Quit worrying about it and let's get the gear unloaded. You still have to show me how to dive." That snapped me out of the little spell I was having. We moved the car around by the pool enclosure and unloaded the gear then went upstairs to get changed. * * * * It didn't take me long to change into my baggy trunks and get back down to the pool. Jon had wanted to wait to change, saying he needed to do something but offered no explanation. He just shooed me out after I was done changing and closed the door behind me. I knew he would probably take his time with what ever it was; he was just that way about some things. While I waited, I got the gear set up and ready to go. I attached the regulators, hooked up the BC's, and checked the airflow. I was just finishing when I saw Jon step through the French doors and I froze. What a vision. He was dressed in a full length, white terry robe and his Matrix sunglasses. With his chiseled features and blond hair, the only word that came to mind was sleek. The length of the robe made him look taller than what he was and it was just tight enough to beautifully accentuate his silhouette. I'm almost positive that I was drooling. "See anything you like?" he said with that huge toothy, perfect grin of his. "Nice sunglasses," I said, regaining my composure and trying to deflate him a little. He smirked a little as he undid his belt. "Well, how about this, then?" he asked as pulled the robe aside and stood with his hands on his hips. The blood left my brain so fast for other parts of my body that I was surprised I didn't faint as he stood there wearing a new, very slim, Speedo. It was really gorgeous; a green, fernlike print design that wonderfully put the accent on his bulge. "Veeeeeeeery nice," I drawled as I openly leered. "You approve?" he beamed. "Oh, yeah," I said as I slowly approached him and slid my hands in his robe around his back. "Yeah, it seems to fit just fine around the butt," I joked as I let my hands wander over him, pulling him gently into me. I could feel his steel against mine as my tongue met his for a long, wonderfully breathy kiss. "You get this at the mall yesterday?" I asked as we concluded. "Yeah," he said, reaching into the pocket of his robe, "I got you one, too," he said with that huge smile again. My mouth fell open as I looked at the small trunks, matching his own, dangling from his index finger. "So that's why you asked my waist size," I said as the revelation sank in. Jon just chuckled and nodded, obviously happy with my complete surprise. "Put it on," he said. I didn't have to be asked twice as I shoved the baggies off my hips and pulled on the silky trunks that Jon held out for me. I could feel a little precum as they slid tightly over my member and thought I was going to cum right then. It was hard not to with Jon standing there with that statuesque body of his studying my every move. "You look beautiful," Jon said approvingly. "C'mon," I said, "Let's get wet." Jon stripped off his robe and shades, setting them on one of the lounge chairs, and followed me to where I had the equipment set up. He sat down cross-legged on the deck while I introduced him to his tank, his regulator with octopus and the buoyancy compensator, the BC. "Octopus?" he asked. "What's that for?" "It basically has two purposes. Say, for example, you're down somewhere and your primary regulator fails for some reason. The octopus is your backup. Also, say, your down with your buddy..." "Going down with your buddy," he intoned slowly, trying not to laugh. "Yes, Jon, that's right," I said indulgently, rolling my eyes and hoping my quick agreement with his joke would take some of his steam away. It usually only encouraged him more. I never learned, "Say you're going down with your buddy. He only has the primary stage and something goes wrong with it or he runs out of air; the octopus allows you two to share air without having to pass your regulator back and forth." "'kay, what's the BC thing for?" he asked with none of his usual flippancy. "The BC is essentially just an air bladder that you use for adjusting your buoyancy," I showed him the thumb button and the release for injecting air from the tank and then releasing it. "More air to surface, release to descend, or just enough either way for neutral buoyancy." "Which is...what?" "That's where you stay at a constant depth; you aren't rising or falling," I said; Jon nodded. Without getting into a whole big classroom deal about the gas laws, I explained that, for our purposes in the pool, he only really had to remember two things: breathe normally all the time, don't hold your breath and try not to ascend any faster than your smallest bubble, a trick an old teacher had passed on. I emphasized that he should especially never hold his breath when ascending or he risked get an embolism, even in as little water as was in this pool. He nodded his head thoughtfully and then asked, "So when do I get the knife?" "The knife?" I asked, knowing his flippant side was coming out for a visit. "Yeah, I always wanted to have one of those cool knives strapped to my leg! That'd look pretty hot, don't you think?" "OK, fine," I said as he laughed, "We'll get you a cool knife when we take the tanks back," I said in that patronizing way that Jon found so amusing. "I'm sure Dave has a ton of cool knives you can look at," I continued, "'cuz, Lord knows, we wouldn't want you goin' around without a cool knife strapped to your leg. Hell, why not get one for each, so you don't walk around lop-sided?" I said as Jon rolled on the deck, unable to contain himself as I went through my short tirade. With the comic portion of the instruction out of the way, I told Jon it was time to get set. We put on our boots and I helped Jon on with his tanks as he sat at the pool edge with his legs dangling in the water. I sat down next to him and strapped myself in, checking the airflow. Fins went on next, then mask. I didn't have any anti-fog, but I showed Jon an old way to keep his mask from fogging up. "Eeew, God," he recoiled slightly as I spat a wad of saliva into the mask, working it around with my fingertips and then rinsing it away. I pulled the mask on and down to my forehead and jutted my chin at him, "Trust me. It works." He did exactly as I did even though he was still a little grossed out by it. "Now, inflate your BC to about three-quarters," I said, doing so as I watched Jon fill his. I pulled my mask down over my face, "What we're going to do is roll forward into the water, and I want you to keep your hand pressed against your mask so it doesn't get pushed off when you do. You'll probably do a somersault and get a little disoriented, but don't worry; your BC will bring you right back up,' I said. "Check your airflow again." Jon took a quick draw on the regulator. He was good to go. "Good, watch me and do what I do, but let me get clear of the side before you come in." Jon nodded and watched as I put my regulator in, pulled my mask down and took hold of it and rolled forward into the water. I always loved that brief feel of disorientation as I entered the water, surrounded by a cloud of bubbles, totally weightless, kind of like flying. I came back up and made sure I was a few feet away and signaled to Jon that it was his turn. I watched as he studiously mimicked what I did and then rolled into the water. I looked down at him; his mask was still on. He popped up next to me a few seconds later and spat out his regulator. "Wooooo!" he exclaimed, "That was awesome!" I gave him a thumbs-up and signaled for him to release the air in his BC as I was doing. He followed suit and we slowly sank beneath the surface. Jon was a quick study and he soon got the hang of adjusting his buoyancy. I was glad to see that he was taking to scuba so well and so fast. He looked like he was totally at ease with it, like he'd been waiting for it all his life and just wanted to play now and revel in the new sensation. We cruised back and forth in the pool while I made sure he was comfortable with everything. Every now and then I would give him the questioning 'OK' sign and always got an enthusiastic thumbs-up in reply. I'd be less than honest if I said that I wasn't checking out more than Jon's diving technique. He looked totally hot underwater, very lithe and supple. Every stroke of his legs was like a ballet to me and I loved the way the dappled sunlight played over him. He loved turning somersaults underwater and I loved watching his muscles move as he did. Then he signaled that he wanted to surface. "What's wrong," I asked. "Nothing, everything's perfect," he said, getting that grin on his face again. "Let's wrestle!" "Oh, this should be fun," I thought. "Okay, how do you want to start?" "You start out over there," he said, pointing to the far side, "I'll start down at the other end and we'll stalk each other somewhere in between. Give it, say, two minutes to get ready and then we start." "Sounds good; first one to snatch off the other's mask wins," I said, putting my regulator back in and starting off to my end. The free form shape of the pool was such that you couldn't see from one end to the other because of the intervening curves. That made it a little more interesting. Jon had chosen to start in the deep end, about twelve feet, and I wanted to get out of the shallow part so I had more room to maneuver. I looked at my watch. About a minute and a half had gone by. Ah, hell, who was counting, I figured, and I started off around the edge of the pool. I was trying to get to a blind side at the curve I thought he was closest to so I could stay out of his sight as long as possible. My efforts were rewarded when, just as I was getting in position, I saw Jon slowly creeping up from the bottom of the well at the edge of the curve, looking like a soldier peeking over the edge of a foxhole. He forgot to look up. I was on him in a second but I had a hard time getting a grip as he saw me at the last second and twisted around to face me. Each of us grabbed one of the others arms and wrestled around for dominance as we slowly drifted back towards the bottom of the well, our buoyancy just enough to keep us off the bottom. "Damn, he's strong," I thought as we squirmed around. Not that I'm some slouch, but Jon was deceptively strong, probably because he was only average height. He was like an eel, too, very quick and difficult to hold onto as he kept trying to break my grip to establish his own. Occasionally, we would break each other's grip long enough to make a pass at the other's mask only to have our arm deflected and snatched back. I nearly got a grip on Jon's once and he was getting uncomfortably close to mine. We grappled for what felt like a very long time, neither of us getting any advantage. Then I felt his legs wrap around my hips, his heels finding the inside of my thighs. "Oh, good move," I thought. He was going to have me very shortly now that he'd succeeded in fouling my legs and finding himself just a bit of leverage. I had to do something fast but I was becoming very distracted as I felt his steel brushing tightly against my own, separated only by scant microns of nylon. The sheer fabric allowed us to slide easily across one another as we continued struggling, as he held his leg lock around me. We twisted and turned, enveloping ourselves in a cloud of bubbles, our suits easily sliding back and forth with each gyration. I then felt Jon pressing into me, his member lodged next to mine, and I could feel myself extending beyond the top of my trunks. I didn't dare break eye contact with him but I was fairly certain that his length was well over the top of his; I was sure I could feel him pressing against my lower abs as he tightened his grip around my legs. He was driving me insane. This was feeling so incredibly good. I knew that any second I was going to begin pumping white clouds into what little water there was separating our bodies, hopefully to mingle there with Jon's. I was so close and I was beginning to feel that rising tide in me that would soon be past the point of no return. My eyes started to half close and then... I felt a flood of water shoot into my nose. Jon had ripped the mask off my face in a quick, smooth motion. He'd figured out what was going on with me and, stimulated as he also was, waited until I was close and totally unfocused on him. He'd then ripped his right hand free and snatched my mask, backpedaling away from me before I could grab him. I was disoriented for a second and a little ticked off since I'd gone flaccid as soon as the water shot up my nose. I looked around for Jon as saw him fuzzily a few feet away, resting on his knees. I couldn't hear anything but I was sure he was laughing. I swam over to him and he put the mask in my hand. As I cleared my mask I saw him raise his arms above his shoulders in strongman fashion, announcing victory. I checked my gauge. My tank was nearly dry; I was sure Jon's was, too. I didn't realize we'd be under as long as that. Pulling myself in closer to him, I gave him a congratulatory pat on the shoulder, then started to slowly caress his arms, moving down to his hips, the only other piece of his upper body not covered by the BC. I moved my hands around and in rough circles over his butt and I felt his hands begin massaging my neck. He was getting an erection and I could feel it peeking out of his trunks. My hand came back around to take him in hand. Gripping him, I turned my palm back and forth over his sensitive head and he doubled up in wondrous agony. Every ripple of his abs heightened in tense anticipation, every twist inducing a fresh spasm and I could hear him moaning into his regulator. Jon was close, I could feel he was so very close. Then, quickly, without warning, I released him and tapped him on the shoulder, signaling that we needed to surface. The stunned look on his face was worth it. I inflated my BC and waited for him at the surface, laughing to myself knowing that he'd be as ticked off as I was. I didn't have to wait long. "Hey, man," he yelled as he pulled his mask off and spit out his regulator. "What was that about? You can't just leave a guy hanging like that, I could suffer irreparable damage!" "Oh, look who's talkin', you cheat," I casually replied. "You were the one who started the sex-as-a-weapon thing down there," I continued as Jon gave me his best 'who, me?' expression. "And don't give me your puppy dog look; you knew you were driving me insane down there. You waited until you thought I was just about to cum and then grabbed my mask. Talk about interruptus! That damned near hurt!" "Yeah, Ok, I'm busted" Jon said quietly as he paddled over to me. "Friends?" Hesitating just a second for effect, I said, "Always," as I accepted his outstretched hand, pulling him into me. Kissing is a bit difficult when you and your significant other are floating in water, separated by a pair of fully inflated BC's. We managed somehow. "You know," I said as we floated there with our knees wrapped together. "I'll bet you'd look really hot in a wetsuit," I said with a smiling lilt of my eyebrows. "We'll have to get you one when we go back to the shop." "Great, how much will that set me back?" he asked. "Who cares? Dave needs the business, but most importantly...you'll look really hot!" I winked. Jon and I finished off the remaining two tanks and I was really happy to see how well he was taking to scuba diving. After grabbing something to eat, we took our beer back out to the patio and stretched out on the huge teak chaise lounges to work on our tans and take a catnap. Well, Jon was about to take a catnap...my cat was about to get its tail caught by a rocking chair. * * * * (To Be Continued) * * * *