Date: Mon, 27 Jul 2009 18:19:21 -0700 (PDT)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: JULY sizzles 04

The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any
resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely
coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons,
in towns, cities, countries, nor governmental areas, which the story is
staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you,
then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18
years of age, in most state and countries, you are not allowed to read this
story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such.

% Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use
protection.

%

JULY sizzles 04
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

Third week of July, relationships began to sizzle!

Off to work, Jean-Claude put in his 8 hours, Emre carpooling from home to
work as well, his summer job underway. With Kevin needing `something' to do
to earn money and no talent recalled on his part, he tagged
along. Surprisingly he was found resourceful in the `labor' department of
Lomberiou-Quesada-O'Keefe-Finsterwalder-'Temel', the `Temel' added by
Jean-Claude to make Emre feel a part of the firm. Monday morning brought
about Denny looking out towards the ocean, drawing his finger down the
glass of the rather long window.

"Is this on the inside or outside?" Denny asked. He answered his own
question when the residue wasn't moved by his finger.

"Outside," Jean-Claude drew resolve. He adds, "And are you planning on
doing any real work today, Denny?"

He turns to his partner and best friend, saying, "I'd `much' rather watch
the action outside, J.C.?"

Jokingly, Jean-Claude takes a wailing Denny by the ear, leading him over to
the desk.

"Ouch.. ouch... ouch... careful! You're going to hurt where I'm getting my
earring!"

Letting go, Jean-Claude says, "Maybe Oprah can loan you one of her hoops!"

"Funny J-C. I'd like to see you make fun of AJ's earring."

"Him too?"

"Yep and if you were to say any itty, bitty thing about it, he'd pound you
into the groung with his pinky!"

"Of that I'm quite sure," Jean-Claude said of Denny's beefy, bear
boyfriend. "Okay, so I take back the Oprah."

Denny chuckled and replied, "Trust me J-C. You wouldn't want AJ to go and
make you sit down on his lap!"

"Oh? So should I phone the FBI and report his weapon of mass destruction?"

Breaking up their little bout of fun and play, Kevin walks in, carrying a
bag in one hand, chewing on a donut with the other. Like ignoring
Jean-Claude, he sideswipes him in conversation, "Hey Denny you missed it!"

"Missed what?"

"Out in front. Some hot dude on a Harley!" Kevin replies.

He laughs as Denny tears past him.

"I just unglued those eyes from the window, Kevin!"

But Jean-Claude wasn't too far behind Denny!

"Hey, he's coming in here!" Denny said excitedly.

"Yeah," Jean-Claude said merrily, "ain't he a fuckin' hot dish!"

"You better not let Brendan hear you talkin' like that, J-C!"

Maybe Jean-Claude knew something Denny didn't!

"Hey, he looks damn familiar. Maybe a client?"

"Maybe more," Jean-Claude replies.

And sure enough, as the motorcycle dude gets to the front door, he removes
the helmet and dark sunglasses.

"You knew all along!" Denny accuses his long time friend.

When the door opens, Jean-Claude greets the `greaser', "Hey babe. How was
your cruise down the parkway?"

"Breezy!"

"I had a feeling it was you," Denny claims.

"Really?" Brendan asks.

Wise, Jean-Claude tells him, "He didn't have a clue, Bren!"

They laughed it off as Brendan helped himself to opening a cabinet and
stashing his motorcycle gear.

"So where did you get the motorcycle?"

While Denny and Brendan talked bikes, Jean-Claude corners Kevin. "Say, how
do you think you would at be handling a bucket and sponge?"

"Um, does this mean I'm going to have to do some work?" Kevin replies.

Smiling, Jean-Claude replies, "I figured it would help pay for the second
donut in your hand, among other things?"

"Oh," Kevin replied, looking at the Boston cream pastry. "Yeah, I guess I
could do... what is it you want me to do?"

"Tell me. What do you know about windows?"

"You open them when you want to access a website?"

Taking Kevin by the arm, he heads out the front door, saying, "Not `those'
kind of windows, my window-washing friend!"

Around the side of the building, Jean-Claude leads Kevin to a detached
shed. He keys the lock and opens the door. Flipping a switch the windowless
hut lights up.

"Stinks in here!"

Jean-Claude laughs at Kevin, not only the remark, but the cute way he
shrivels up his nose. "Maybe during the summer you can work on that
too. Here you go," he picks up a unit with a long hose.

"Hey wait. I've seen one those things before. Power sprayer? Wow! I thought
I was `really' going to have to work!" Kevin says, showing more interest in
the modern convenience rather than a bucket and sponge.

"Well be careful. It's not a paintball toy. You can really do damage if you
hit somebody with this."

With the ins and outs of the unit added to his capabilities, Kevin set out
to clean the front of the building.

Meantime Jean-Claude set about his business, working in his office, one of
five of a separate suite of rooms. Every once in awhile he would check up
on `the hired help', seeing what Emre was up to, planning out the garden in
the back and then making sure Kevin was directing the power spray on the
building and not the rest of Asbury Park!

"How are things going Emre?"

"Good I think. I maybe have problem with this?"

A rather wide and deep courtyard, it's primary focus had been to set up
casual meeting areas, outdoor tables and chairs for clients. Over the
weekend Kevin got kind of bored with Emre and Jean-Claude's shop talk, so
he and Brendan walked down to the surf shop. Now on the job, in the
environment of his project, his mind raced with new ideas as well as those
they dwelled on back at the condo.

"You know this could not only be for business?"

"Not for business... how do you mean that Emre?"

"Look! The wall of this building in the back."

All Jean-Claude could see was two stories of gray drywall. "Two stories of
gray drywall?"

"Correct," Emre replies, looking up at the dull finish of the
building. "This mean no one can look down into property if you have party
or relax."

He wasn't getting it, other than, "The main facade of the building faces
Kingsley Street. It's been vacant for a year and I've been after the owners
to put in a bid for it." And surveying with his hand, Jean-Claude gets way
off target, "If I could acquire it, would be nice to own the whole
triangular property. Thought I might see about renovating it..."

Emre knew he wasn't getting it. He wasn't supposed to get it.

After rambling on, Jean-Claude realizes he's strayed and returns to Emre,
"I don't get it."

Unfolding a piece of paper, several times, Emre talked while doing it, "I
figure this out."

"Wait. We have to get you a table." Taking the large parcel of paper,
Jean-Claude folds it back up.

They went inside, Emre getting an immediate chill, the cool AC versus the
rising temps of the ocean morning. "Brrr!" he said in a sharp tone.

Walking into a dark room, Jean-Claude flips a switch, illuminating the
interior. "No reason why you shouldn't be treated like the rest of us!"

Indirectly, it served as a compliment, making Emre feel good. He looks
around. Unlike Jean-Claude's office, clusters of filing cabinets and other
office furniture, it is void of the major office attire, crudely equipped,
the main focus a slanted table.

Switching an overhead lamp on he says, "Here. We'll lay your drawing out on
this and..."

"This is nice office," Emre says after looking around, his eyes looking
down.

"Glad you think so. It's yours until I have to kick you out!"

"Me? Mine? My own office? But it can't be!" Emre says with astonishment.

"Why not?"

"Me.. I don't have degree!"

"You think the guy who built the Coliseum in Rome did either?" Jean-Claude
jokes.

"It is architecture masterpiece!"

It sat well with Jean-Claude, amazed at the thought of Emre knowing such a
fact. But rather than digress he kept on subject, pocketing the thought for
the time being. "So, what's your idea here Emre?"

Meanwhile, out in front of Lomberiou-Quezada-O'Keefe-Finsterwalder &
`Temel', Kevin went about his business of cleaning not only windows, but
jet-spraying the sidewalk. Five minutes prior he had stripped his shirt,
due to the heat of the morning air and fine water residue. Not that it
didn't feel good to get hosed down, but his tee shirt sticking to his skin
made working awkward. He sprayed towards the left side, then right, until
he accidentally got a pair of dress shoes wet.

"Oops!" He looks up as he turns the sprayer to almost nonexistent water
power. "Sorry mist....er..." He realized it wasn't an older dude, one which
would qualify for the calling title, but rather a guy seemingly his own
age. "Um, I mean sorry dude."

"It's..." the guy wiggled one foot, standing on the other, then repeated
the other way around. "... like... okay."

Very interested in the blond, at least his welfare where he was probably on
his way to his job, all dressed in a suit and tie, he offers, "I guess
you're on your way to work and can't go back home, huh?"

"Well, uh..."

Kevin then `had' to smile, knowing he was being checked out! "I could run
to the jon and get some paper towels?"

"Thanks, but I've got an interview," he pulls out a piece of paper, looks
at it, looks at the building Kevin was cleaning and replies, "125
Lake. This is the place."

"You have an interview here?" Kevin questions him.

"Yes. With a Mr.," he restudies the slip of paper, "Jean-Claude," he
pronounces it `cloud', "Lomberiou."

Even though Kevin could classify himself as a very good friend, he didn't
put on any airs, rather the opposite, "Nice man to work for. You'll like
him." And as the dude placed a hand on the door, Kevin watched his every
move, offering, "Push in on the door, um..."

"Oh, my name's Sebastien."

It was all Kevin got, the door quickly closing behind Sebastien. He smiled,
thinking of two things. One, the guy checking him out and two, him checking
Sebastien out!. He turned on the power sprayer.

Indoors, Sebastien came face to face with Cody Finsterwalder, the
thirty-two year old greeting him with a handshake and asking, "May I be of
help sir?"

Sebastien felt kind of weird, having been addressed by a guy probably ten
years older than himself, but took the hand and gently returned the
squeeze. "I'm Sebastien Montesant. I have an appointment with
Mr. Lomberiou?"

Cody, feeling like youth hitting him all over again, bubbly replies, "I'm
happy to meet you Sebastien. You can call me Cody."

"Nice to meet you Cody," the muscled twenty-one year old replies. And then
to throw hint, he looks down at their hands, still intact with a handshake,
"um?"

"Oh! sorry `bout that. Um sure..." Cody unlocks fingers and releases. "Let
me see if J-C..." nervously, "Um, I mean Mr. Lomberiou is available... you
wait right here!" On his way out of the main office, heading towards the
suite of private offices, Cody `had' to `check'. "Whew!" he congratulated
himself, he hadn't gone too far, hadn't sported any kind of rigor mortis
between his legs. Poking his head into the doorway, Cody says, "Um, J-C
there's a guy... I mean a gentleman out in the office asking for you?"

"Asking for me?" Jean-Claude thinks. "Did he give a name?"

"A Sebastien Montesant?"

"Oh yes! Sebastien!" Jean-Claude makes the connection. He excuses himself
with Emre, telling him to try to reword his suggestions into the master
plan before them, a rather crude drawing, but nevertheless some great ideas
on paper and walks back to the main office with Cody.

"My landlady," Jean-Claude begins to explain, "I couldn't help but at least
promise her an interview for her nephew." And expecting the worst, he asks
Cody, "How does he look?" From the lineage of his landlady, a chubby woman
whom spat out half her words, mostly associated with four letters, he
wasn't expecting much from the Montesant lineage, even though it `did'
sound like a sophisticated French surname.

"Too bad he's French because he's built more like a Greek God!"

Chuckling, Jean-Claude comments, "Did he make you sidetrack to the jon,
Cody?"

Feeling up his crotch, Cody replies, "Tell ya... I was almost there!"

Astounded was to say the least, Jean-Claude standing there, gazing upon
Sebastien as if a baby watermelon, in anticipation of it's slicing open,
revealing it's sweet, juicy flavor.

"Thank you very much for allowing me to come for an interview," Sebastien
offers his hand when Jean-Claude doesn't.

"Jean-Claude Lomberious," Jean-Claude offers, along with his hand.

"I've got a building to build," Cody excuses himself. "I'll leave you two
alone."

Jean-Claude got Cody's secret message and was hoping Sebastien didn't!

What complicated matters, Jean-Claude well agreeing with Cody, is Kevin
walking in the front door.

"I'm done with the sprayer. What else?"

Drenched from head to toe, the two looked upon Kevin, his wet hair sagging
over his face, then his hairy pits as he reaches up to push it all back,
his skin stretching over his abs, his nips hard as rocks from the cold
air. "Brrr! It's cold in here!" he exclaims, quickly putting his arms
around his middle. "My shirt got kind of wet. I left it drying out front
over the railing. That's okay right?"

"Fine," is all Jean-Claude could say. It's not like he hasn't seen Kevin
shirtless, but the idea of Sebastien taking interest in the viewing of what
seemed like a model all prepped for a photo shoot, it would make any gay
man horny-on-the-spot!

"What do you want me to do next?"

To get his mind off of one thing and onto the real business, Jean-Claude
detours, "Uh Kevin, have you met Sebastien?"

"Yeah," he lets out a chuckle. "I'm responsible for cleaning his shoes this
morning." And then jumping the gun, in a joyful manner he jokes, "Is
Sebastien going to be part of the maintenance crew like me?"

Being it was last week he promised his landlady to at least grant Sebastien
an interview and with all that was going on at home, it completely slipped
Jean-Claude's mind. Therefore, he hadn't a clue to where he was going to
place Sebastien.

With a lull, Sebastien says, "I would be happy to do most anything. Jobs
are kind of tough to find this summer, you know with the economy?"

For Jean-Claude, world famous for his designs, he wasn't hurting as much as
the next guy, but still he hadn't planned on adding another bod to the
force, but `this bod' he was wanting to and since Kevin had mentioned it,
Sebastien reinforcing the position, it left him no choice, "You won't have
to come all dressed up tomorrow and.." he was making it up as he went
along, "Kevin!"

"What J-C?" Kevin jumped as Jean-Claude rather threw his words at him.

"Why don't you show Sebastien the shed out back?"

"But I finished out front. What do you want me... us to do next?"

"Are the windows spotless?"

Kevin walks over and takes a peek. "Not really. The grime is gone, but
there's like little water drops all over them?"

"Probably paper towels and cleaner will help?"

Kevin and Jean-Claude look towards Sebastien, Kevin saying, "At least one
of us has a brain. C'mon. Let's see if we can get you dirty Sebastien!"

He watched as Kevin took Sebastien under his wing, literally, Kevin's arm
over Sebastien's shoulder.

As they were going, Brendan made his second entrance of the day.

"How's the move going?"

"Slow. With one person it's like baby steps," Brendan replies, flopping
himself down into a swivel chair. He holds his shirt out to vent.

"No. Let it stick to you!"

"Like this?" He not only lets the tee drop back onto his sweaty frame, but
pulls it back tautly. Indelible, it can be seen, the tiny hard pec spots.

"I think I need to take a trip to the little boy's room!" It wasn't only
Brendan's chest Jean-Claude was looking at!

"Say! What's Kevin up to? You think he could give me a hand? That is if you
don't have him involved in a project?"

"Bren, you're a Godsend!" And he filled him in on `why'!

%

Copyright 2009 T. Chase McPhee

This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior
consent from the author. If you don't adhere to this condition, you run the
risk of having your pants sued off you... might lose your shirt too!



The more you stretch, the more you can fit in... 'spread' happiness!
TCMcP.....