Date: Thu, 5 Jan 2006 20:54:02 -0800 (PST)
From: kevin Donovan <letsgonaked2000@yahoo.com>
Subject: closets, chapter 2, adult friends

The following is a work of gay erotic fiction.  It does contain
descriptions of sexual acts between males.  If that offends you, if you are
underage, or if possessing it is illegal where you are, then stop reading
now! On the other hand, if you are just looking to get off quickly,
beware-plot and character development lie ahead!.


CHAPTER TWO        CALVIN


    After a quick stop at my room to whip on a fresh shirt, long slacks,
and loafers, I hustled down the stairs and through the butler's pantry,
where I knew there would be a set of keys to Grand-daddy's Caddy.  By the
time I got the garage door opened, Lonnie's cab was already backing out of
the driveway behind me, and I was only ten minutes from the funeral home.

    That whole errand took less than half an hour, and all my misgivings
about it were worry wasted.  It turned out that Grand-daddy was in firm
control of matters despite his death.  He had his cremation scheduled, and
had broken the heart of Mr.  Gilchrist, the mortician, by ordering no
add-ons whatsoever.  A call to Dr. Ford, the pastor, established that
Friday noon would, indeed, be a convenient time, and that the deceased even
had a funeral planning form on file at the church, with scriptures and
music all selected.  The obituary was done except for a handful of blanks
to fill in.  All I had to do was approve ordering flowers and paying for
the organist and janitor fees.

       There were only two meaningful surprises.  First, Grand-daddy had
stipulated that a reception for friends was to be held in his home
following.  With rules of southern hospitality in force, that meant a full
meal for who knew how many people, lasting a good two or three hours.  But
a quick cell-phone consultation with Ruth Ann, whom I found at the
hair-dresser's, eased my mind.  Her brother-in-law, Cedric, it turns out,
makes the best barbecue in this part of the state, and has children,
nieces, and nephews sufficient to serve the entire town.  In addition, he
had no problem with serving all those cakes and casseroles that the
townspeople were, even now, processing over to the house with.  So we would
have a post-funeral extravaganza with little effort on my part at all.

    The second proviso was that the ashes were to be interred at a later
date in a niche already constructed in the back wall of Grand-daddy's
garden.  All those named in his will were to be present, and no one else.
That made me start to wonder who else might be in the will, as I had been
told I was the heir-or was it "principal beneficiary?"  I tried to recall
exactly what Mr. Spurlock, Grand-daddy's law partner, had said when he
called me with his shocking news the previous night, to no avail.  Perhaps
I'd better not sign the papers on that Mercedes convertible I had been
picturing myself in just yet!  The joke would really be on me if I turned
out to be the executor of an estate whose proceeds went mostly to other
people.

    But my Columbia law degree was not exactly worthless (I'd already had
several impressive offers), and my dad's estate had left me with a decent
allowance.  I wasn't really worried about my financial future.  So I
decided to make Mr.  Gilchrist smile at last by asking him to add a limo
rental to the tab.  It worked, too; his mouth turned up perceptibly at the
edges.  Now neither Lonnie nor I would have to drive the Caddy.  I'd ask
him to join me in the limo, though, and Ruth Ann and Calvin as well.  Might
as well give the home folks a treat and keep up appearances somehow.

    By the time I shook Mr. Gilchrist's moist, limp hand on the front steps
of his establishment, I was feeling a bit giddy.  Strange reaction to the
mixture of shock, grief (yes, I did have feelings for old J. P.),
confusion, lust, perplexity, and excitement I was experiencing all at once.
As I slid into the car seat just yesterday occupied by the former owner,
whom I now knew to be a lot randier and friendlier to my orientation than I
ever could have imagined, I almost started to cry.  But then, oddly, I
began to laugh instead, at Grand-daddy, at myself, at the bizarre human
condition.  I felt like I'd had three martinis-and in fact, that seemed
like a good plan.

    By the time I left the parking lot, both my loafers were off, kicked
into the passenger side floorboard.  By the second traffic light, my khakis
were off, too, and tossed into the back seat.  I turned right and, within
the next block, unbuttoned my shirt and slipped out of it, sending it to
join the slacks.  I was driving through downtown Hebron, South Carolina
buck naked. Though the air conditioner was roaring in the early summer
heat, I hit the buttons that lowered all the windows, allowing the warm
wind to wash over my torso and fondle its way down to my thighs and groin.
One more button pushed, and the sun-roof opened as well, allowing the full
power of the sun to sear into my naked skin.  What a fabulous, luxurious
sensation of freedom, release, and full-body sensual stimulation.  I felt
every cell of my skin all at once, from the soles of my feet to the scalp
of my head, and every neuron tingled with irrational joy.

    Fortunately, I had the presence of mind to notice the light ahead turn
red, and I eased to a stop.  In the respite, I began to breathe more
smoothly and regain some sense of sobriety and calm.  I lay my head back
against the seat rest.  From the corner of my eye, I saw a blue and yellow
object pull up beside me on the right-a bread delivery truck preparing to
turn right.  I turned my head slightly.  It had one of those full length
doors that, open, revealed the full view of a thirty-something driver, a
dark black man dressed in navy shorts and shirt, with white socks and
sneakers.  And white teeth, grinning down at me!  Under his narrow
mustache, his lips puckered and emitted a low wolf-whistle.  Then his
tongue emerged to lick all the way around those lips.  I looked at my lap
self- consciously.  Yep.  My dick was in pole position for sure.

    A honk sounded behind the bread truck, someone else wanting to turn
right on the red light.  My neighbor grinned, shrugged, and shook his head
wonderingly as he eased the truck on around the corner.  The little red
Saturn behind him followed suit, oblivious to the scene that had caused the
delivery man to delay his turn.

    My light changed to green, and I eased carefully through the
intersection.  In a couple of minutes, I turned onto the residential
street, hit the garage door opener, and sailed right up the driveway and
into the garage.

    As the door came down behind me, I just caught a glimpse of a small SUV
pulling into the driveway.  I wasn't expecting anyone, and supposed it was
most likely more food from the neighbors or church ladies.  I was in no
condition to receive a plate of brownies.  I gathered my clothes and draped
them over the railing of the back stairs, then waited to see if my theory
about southerners bringing condolences would hold up.  The front doorbell
rang.  After thirty seconds, the door opened, and I heard a hesitant female
voice call out, "Ruth Ann?  Jamie, are you heah?"  Then another pause.
Then the clicks of high heels moved through the foyer, the dining room, and
into the kitchen, only one swinging door from where I stood naked, leaning
casually against the stair rail.  I heard the clink of bottles as the
refrigerator door opened, then closed.  The clicking heels retraced their
steps, ending with the clunk of the front door closing behind the visitor.
No doubt a congealed gelatin salad had joined the other three in the
over-sized Sub-zero.

    I grinned to myself.  Yes, the deliveries could continue all afternoon
without my participation.  As the bereaved one, I was entitled to a claim
of privacy, at least for the moment, even if they suspected I might be in
the house.  I strolled nonchalantly down the back hallway past the laundry
and utility rooms and out the service entrance, onto Grand- daddy's
spacious patio.

    This would make the ideal space for overflow reception area, in case
the after- funeral crowd was large.  The patio itself had a covered
section, with comfortable seating, and two uncovered sections with their
own wrought iron furniture groupings.  Beyond it lay an impressive formal
garden with paths and small islands of lawn interspersed with shrubs and
annual plantings.  Two fountains bubbled away, one with a sexy mermaid
ornament, the other with an even sexier nude Neptune statue.  I remembered
being turned on by Neptune and indifferent to the mermaid from my earliest
days visiting this garden.  I guess I was thirteen or so before it dawned
on me what that meant.

    Wandering around the garden naked was no problem as far as the
neighbors were concerned.  The house to one side was single-story; on the
other, I knew that the widow who resided there was unable to climb stairs,
and lived entirely on the first floor.  To the rear, some distance away
across the back garden, was the home of Dr.  DuPree, Grand- daddy's best
friend from childhood.  I thought of him as a pretty cool guy, a prominent
surgeon.  I'd skinny-dipped in this pool with his grand-son Bryce when I
was about 8 and Bryce maybe 11.  But in any case, their view, and their
neighbors', was mostly blocked by the wisteria that grew atop the brick
wall separating the two properties (the very wall in which Grand-daddy's
niche would be located, I recalled.)  I meandered through the garden
casually toward the circular Oriental wooden gateway which led further back
to the pool garden in the rear.

    Grand-daddy had his swimming pool, Jacuzzi, and sauna built back there
allegedly because they are out of character in style with the more formal
terrace garden.  But I knew from catching him at it several times through
the years that he enjoyed those features nude, sometimes with friends,
though I never knew of any hanky-panky taking place there.  And he had
given me the go-ahead himself to do it, too.  Grandmother was not a
swimmer, and rarely came back there.

    The moon-gate was slightly ajar, and I pushed it open to enter.  Less
formal or not, this garden was just as carefully landscaped and beautiful
as the other.  The pool was painted a medium blue color, making the water
look deep and cool.  Brick paving surrounded the pool.  At one end, an
open-sided cabana held a huge barbecue pit and a fully equipped kitchen,
with toilets and changing rooms in back.  The sauna was beside that, with
open shower heads outside it.  At the other end, a 12-man spa sat in its
own raised garden.  Tables, chairs, chaise lounges were scattered about.
I'd never known J. P.  to use this space for entertaining, and now wondered
what might have gone on here whenever Grandmother was away, and since her
death.

    I strolled into the cabana and pulled open the refrigerator door.  It
was filled with beer, mixers, and soft drinks, even cheeses, far more than
one widower could ever have consumed.  The adjacent cabinet was fully
stocked with liquors, and the next with chips and crackers.  If only I knew
some folks in town, I needed to have a party back here to get rid of this
stuff!  I decided on Margaritas, and mixed up a pitcher full, since I was
expecting Calvin and Lonnie soon.

    By 2:00, I was floating in the pool on a large, aqua-colored inflatable
chaise, with my acrylic Margarita glass resting in its holder at my side.
I'd found some sunscreen in the cabana and slathered my front with it.  The
sun baked my skin, but the water cooled my backside.  Within fifteen
minutes, I was sound asleep.

    Something caused me to awaken suddenly, a feeling of being watched, or
at least no longer alone.  I opened my eyes into the glare of the afternoon
sun.  My raft had drifted into the corner of the deep end of the
pool. There, looming at my feet on the edge of the pool, toes curling over
the rim, stood a magnificent Nubian prince of a young black man, completely
nude, surrounded by a golden aura of sunlight.  He looked about my height.
His skin was a brown-sugary color, a tone or two lighter than Ruth Ann's.
His coal-black hair glistened.  He had a perfectly symmetrical oval face, a
fine nose, almond- shaped brown eyes, and beautiful teeth framed by full
lips and a neat 'stache and goatee.  His chest was sprinkled with short
coils of hair, which flowed down the center of his abdomen toward this
pubic bush, which was untrimmed.  His legs were slim but strongly muscled,
like a runner's.  This could only be Calvin, the yard and pool man, and he
outdid his advance publicity.

    He grinned, dazzling me with those perfect pearly whites.  He lifted
his arm to remove his sunglasses, revealing startling greenish eyes the
likes of which I had never seen.

    "Hi, there."

    We went through the inane pleasantries and unnecessary introductions.
I mentioned the Margarita pitcher in the fridge, and he strode over, still
grinning, to pour himself one, and me a refill, while I rolled out of the
pool chaise to clamber out onto the side of the pool.  Calvin plopped down
beside me and handed me my drink.  I had to take a long sip of Margarita,
because I could not take my eyes off of his magnificent legs, not to
mention his nice, long cock, which now dangled over the edge of the pool.
At last, I got control of my eyes and looked into his, smiling.  His shades
were back on, but he was still grinning at me.

    "Why haven't we met before?" I asked lamely.

    "Well, I'm four years younger, you know.  But I don't think your
Grandmother was crazy about having me around.  Seems like there was a
change after she passed on, and J. P. took an interest in me.  He even used
to come to my high school football games.  My uncle Dante used to keep the
grounds here, and after that my cousin Alonza.  When I was in high school,
I needed work, and this was flexible, so J. P. took me on, and I still keep
the yard and pool while I go to college.  Of course, I guess that's all up
to you, now."

    "Yard and pool still need keeping up."

    His grin could not get bigger, but it sort of firmed up some.

    "Say, Dude, I hope you don't mind me tellin' you, you prob'ly don't
want to be driving around town in the all-together, you know?"

    So Calvin had already gotten word of that, had he?

    "Only the one delivery guy saw me, and he didn't mind."

    "Yeah, I know he saw you, and I know he didn't mind, and I know nobody
else did, or I would've heard about that, too," Calvin chuckled.  "Don't
you realize everybody in town knows J. P.'s big ol' Cadillac?  And when
they see you in it, they know exactly who you are, too!  There's a lot of
interest in you in these parts."

    "Oh?"

    "You're the young prince, man!  You've got it all!  Looks, money,
glamour, brains, money, looks..."

    "You said looks and money twice," I laughed.

    "Uh-huh, that's because those two are twice as important.  Luckily,
nearly everyone in town is predisposed to like you.  You're kind of a local
celebrity.Most people liked your grand-daddy, too.  But don't ever
forget-you don't get where your grand- daddy got in a small town like this
without making some enemies, too.  There's a few who would just love to
bust your butt and drag you in the town hall in cuffs, naked for all to
see.  So promise me you won't do that anymore in town in the daytime."

    "I see what you mean.  OK."

    "And promise me that whenever you want to do it after dark or out on
the highway, you'll invite me to go, too."  That grin was really starting
to get to me.

    "Done."

    "I hear you already ejaculated twice since you arrived."

    "Tell me what you don't know about me."

    "And you're hung like Balaam's donkey.  But that I can see for myself
now." As Calvin's knee had pressed against mine, my dick had begun to
respond a bit.

    "Who are you, the FBI or the CIA?"

    "Fuck.  The queer men of Hebron, South Carolina beat the shit out of
those amateurs for collecting intelligence.  Now that we have cell-phones,
hell, man, we're a force to be reckoned with."

    "I do have a very good idea who your sources are for all this
information, you know."

    "You know maybe one smidgen about this town, Sherlock.  Give it a few
weeks."  Calvin leaned back and eyed me coyly.  "I did also hear that you
like to catch as well as pitch."

    "Did you.  Are you by any chance a pitcher?"

    "Got a bat, 'bout like yours, too."  This conversation was making mine
get even bigger.  Calvin's was not far behind.

    "Well."  I leaned back, too.  "Wanna burn a few into me?"

    "Thought you'd never ask.  Just let me get a catcher's mitt."

    I was perplexed by that last, until Calvin strode over to the cabana,
opened a small drawer, and returned with a rubber and a tube of Astroglide.
He came back and placed the items on the bricks at my hip, then straddled
me, his meaty, uncut cock dangling right in front of my face.

    Calvin had nice, neat black pubes, and his balls were medium size, at
present drawn tightly up in his shaved, taut scrotum.  I began to lick them
and nuzzle his cock a bit.  Then I took it entirely into my mouth.  He
moved his hands from his own hips to my shoulders, and began to massage
gently.  I appreciated that, glad that he was not one to grab my head and
force-feed me the sausage.  I remember a T-shirt with the line, "Don't hold
my ears, I know what I'm doing," and I agree with that sentiment.

    His dick, of course, extended rapidly in both length and girth,
smoothly rolling out of its foreskin.  The head, when I glimpsed it, was a
bright pink against the deep chocolate of the shaft.  He had grown to about
eight inches now, maybe five around.  I took a deep breath and leaned into
it until my lips brushed his pubes.  Holding it as long as I could, I
swirled my tongue around and enjoyed the sound of his low moans and short
breaths.  I slid back out to the end, took another big breath, and slid it
back down the throat again.  Several of these, and Calvin was truly
wailing.  Suddenly, he pulled out, knelt straddling my thighs, and kissed
me deep.  Another great kisser, two for two in this town.  I knew what he
was up to--stalling to give his nuts a chance to back down from eruption
mode.  But it was fine with me, as I truly love serious kissing.


    After a few minutes of this, Calvin was ready for a go at my ass.  He
rose and lifted me up, then led me to a chaise lounge, where he gestured
for me to kneel.  I faced the seat and rested my elbows on the arms of the
chaise, reversed, with my butt sticking up towards my new friend.  He bent
to smooch my asshole a bit.  I felt his tongue circling his target, then
pressing the bull's eye.  I never met a man who did not love to be rimmed,
once he let it happen, and I am certainly no exception there.  Calvin made
out with my ass as expertly, and as eagerly, as he had with my mouth.
After a bit, though, I felt a cool gooey finger probing gently.  It went in
to the second knuckle and rotated around a bit.  More goo, and a second
finger followed.  The third glop of goo was not accompanied by fingers, but
by something much larger, and firmly spongy.  With a plop and a grunt (from
me), the head pushed past the sphincter, and I was gettin' fucked.

    "You OK?"

    "Show me your fastball."

    Calvin responded by slamming his dick all the way in, his hips hitting
my butt with a skin-to-skin plop.  My prostate jolted with a painful
pleasure, but I must admit, for my ass-lips, it was all pain for that
moment.  Mr. Tough Guy was getting his come- uppance.  Now I'd have to grit
my teeth for thirty seconds of hard fucking until the pain gave way to pure
pleasure.  I didn't care.  I wanted the sensation of a hard and hung man
inside me.

    Calvin hurled into me like a major leaguer.  The pain did subside, but
it continued to be a rough fuck.  I hung onto the ends of the arm rests and
just tried to maintain my position for his maximum penetration and
pleasure.  I tried to grip his dick with my ass muscles a bit as he
withdrew each time, but his strokes were too fast for me to catch them all.
He was panting now like a runner.

    I felt a shadow cross the left side of my face, and raised my head a
bit, just in time to see a naked white thigh pass across the lowered back
of the chaise.  A large, erect penis brushed my cheek and settled, bobbing
like a dashboard ornament, in front of my nose.  "Why, Lonnie, uhh," I
gasped, as Calvin pounded the wind out of my lungs rhythmically, "I'd know
that dick anywhere."  I opened wide, and he slid it smoothly between my
lips.  I took as deep a breath as I could with Calvin's pounding, and
Lonnie pushed all the way down my throat.  He pulled back, though, to let
me breathe, and after that, he face-fucked me much more shallowly, shoving
only the first six inches in on each thrust.  I felt the angle of his body
shift, and I knew he and Calvin were kissing across my back.

    Then Calvin, who'd had a considerable head start, began to shudder, and
his thrusts became less regular.  He gave several long, shaky jabs at my
gut, then trembled and was still.  How I regretted having to use that
damned rubber!  I'd so love to feel his juices flowing freely into my
bowel.  He remained joined to me for a moment as he tongued Lonnie's oral
cavity, and I suctioned a lower section.  Then Calvin reluctantly pulled
out, and to my surprise, so did Lonnie.  I watched as Lonnie's lean, tanned
rump moved on lithe, strong legs toward the cabana, then as they brought
his manly front side, phallus swinging, back in my direction with another
rubber in hand.

    Well, I owed him this-I'd had two ejaculations off of him earlier.  I
felt his firm hands grip my buttocks as he moved in behind me.  My knees
could have used a break, but I was determined to hold up for this stud's
pleasure.  His cock slid right in, filling the void left by Calvin's
departure, and my rectum gratefully received it.  He hunched me like a
Rottweiler from the very beginning, eager to spew semen.

    I moved my hands down to the seat of the chaise and supported myself
with my arms.  When I tired from that, I bent my arms and hunched my
shoulders, resting in the seat itself.  Calvin came up and straddled the
seat as Lonnie had done, but facing the other way.  He bent slightly and
offered me his pucker to lick while Lonnie plowed my furrow at the other
end.  I closed my eyes and savored the sensations of the smooth, clean anus
in my face.  But after a bit, I opened my eyes, and as I did so, I caught a
hint of movement off to the right and up, in my peripheral vision.  I
turned my head.

    "Oh, shit, Lonnie, there's someone in that window.  Over there, at the
DuPree's."

    "I know."

    "I think they can see us, damn."  My body tensed up, my head pulling
back, but Calvin's ass still right on my nose.

    "Don't, hunh, worry.  That's Bryce's window, hunh, hunh," Lonnie
grunted, still pounding away as hard as ever on my ass.  "Don't stop me
now, dammit, my balls would fall off."

    "I thought Bryce was a doctor in Columbia."

    Lonnie shuddered and seemingly tried to drive his dick all the way
through my gut and out my mouth on several long, deep thrusts.  No doubt
he, too, was unloading a large sperm deposit in my bank.  He collapsed
sweatily onto my back for a few seconds, then, catching his breath, he
pulled out of me, leaving a gaping exit hole between my cheeks. He swung
dizzily around to the adjacent chair, and plopped down into it, as Calvin
rotated around to sit on a chair on my other side.  I was still on my
knees, backward in the chaise, ass waving.  Lonnie's hard dick stuck
straight up into the stratosphere, comical now in its slimy condom with
tightly-packed reservoir tip and semen swirling around his cock-head.

    "Bryce is a doctor in Columbia.  Pediatrics.  But he comes up here
whenever he can.  He's real close to his grand-parents.  And I heard this
afternoon that he was leaving a conference in Savannah to visit here the
rest of the week, after hearing of J. P.'s death.  So it would be him in
the window."

    "Shit.  God damn.  He saw me getting fucked and rimming out in the back
yard like a SoHo slut."  I turned and sat in my chair, too.

    Calvin and Lonnie both laughed.  I was getting just a little pissed.


    "You guys don't get it.  I've looked up to Bryce my whole life.  He's
always been an unreachable goal to me-so smooth, and smart, and talented,
and so damn nice!  And I haven't seen him for years!  He doesn't even know
I'm gay!"

    "Well, neither did we, until today," said Calvin.

    "Actually, I wouldn't count on it," from Lonnie.  "I think the view
from his window may have cleared up any misconception he may have had on
that score."

    Both men laughed like idiots again.  If they hadn't been naked and so
damn sexy, I really would have gotten pissed at them.

    "I would've liked to tell him myself," I stated morosely. "Now, he'll
probably never come near me again, and I won't get the chance to explain
anything."

    "Oh, I don't know," began Calvin.

    "There's always tonight at the Club," finished Lonnie.

    "You don't mean...."

    "He won't go to the clubs in Columbia, you know, too indiscrete,"
Lonnie continued.  "But he hangs out with us here when he's in town."

    "Not that it does you any good," jibed Calvin.

    "Well.  No, I guess not.  We had a little fling a while back, but
that's been over for months now.  To tell you the truth, glad when I saw
him at the window.  I was kind of hoping ol' Bryce would come on down and
join us out here.  But that was a long shot.  I think Dr. Bryce DuPree is
holding out for Mr. Right while the rest of us are still boinging Mr. Right
Now.  Mind you, he's gotta be twenty-seven or eight by now, and he did his
share of random boinging, too, not so long ago.

    My mind was truly spinning now.  Bryce DuPree, boy wonder, was gay, and
had fucked Lonnie.  Now, at least, I was a bit less embarrassed about him
seeing me in such a compromising position earlier.  But still-what if he
was all grossed out at my trollopy behavior?  Not that I ever had much of a
chance with him....

    Lonnie broke my reverie.  "Cheer up, Jamie, you've got us.  And you are
going to be a sensation tonight, truly you are.  You'll be the fourth
best-looking guy there, after me and Calvin, and Bryce DuPree."

    "You wish," hooted Calvin.  "Jamie will be tied for best-looking guy
there."

    "Tied with me!"  Lonnie shot back.

    "No, twit."  He looked at me seriously.  "Tied with Bryce."

    I wanted off that subject right there, and I immediately turned to
making and pouring another pitcher of Margaritas.  But my mind turned on
what had been said for the rest of the afternoon.  I was pleased with so
much of what I had heard, about Bryce being gay, and available and all.
But that last was most exciting of all.  Sure, I was flattered at Calvin's
praise of my looks.  But even more, I was impressed with what he had said
about Bryce's.  When I had seen him last, I was probably twelve and he
fifteen.  He was skinny as a corn stalk, had spindly legs, over-size feet,
spiky black hair, and hideous glasses.  But he always seemed to be happy to
see me, and never treated me like an intruding kid, which I was.  I
shuddered to think of what I had looked like then, myself.  I'd be very
keen to see Bryce, the grown-up edition.

    After a couple of rounds, I suggested that, if we were going to be
playing strip pool at the club tonight, maybe I'd better go and prep my
body for it.  I needed to freshen my shave.  That met with general approval
from my new friends, who promptly invited themselves to join in.  We'd
groom one another, they declared.  There would be no way they were letting
me out of their sight before they introduced their find at this precious
club of theirs.  I didn't really want to be alone, anyway.
       Having picked up a deeper tone of all-over tan, the three of us
returned happily to the house, where we settled into my guest suite.
Lonnie tried to get me to go ahead and move into the master suite, but I
refused until after the funeral was well past.  He raided it for supplies,
though, and soon enough, we were busily examining one another's bodies for
blemishes, touching up wherever needed.  We all got shaved and trimmed,
bathed and oiled, pedicured and massaged.  Lonnie and Calvin produced sexy
and fashionable casual clothing, and I dug in my suitcase to find something
similar.  We ended by raiding the kitchen for some supper, since we hoped
we'd be too busy flirting and socializing at the club to eat there.

    All but forgotten for the evening was the reason for it all, J. P.  the
third.  There'd be time enough to think of him, though, tomorrow.  Tonight
was for me.