Date: Sat, 19 Mar 2005 10:18:56 -0800 (PST)
From: T Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: Long Distance Love 04

The following story is a work of fiction set in the
format of reality. Any resemblance to real people is
entirely coincidental in nature, and is not meant to
accurately reflect persons in towns, cities, or
governmental areas, in which the story is staged. If
sexual scenes 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 states and countries, you are not allowed to read
this by law.

"Long Distance Love" 04 (M/M oral)
WriTtenby T. Chase McPhee

%


"What do you say we take our leave now?"

"If these feet can carry me away, Mike!"

"Just my point, Jase."

"Are you saying I'm drunk outta *hic* my skull?"

"Now that's putting it mildly," Mike replied, after
Jase tried and failed to make his ascent from the
padded chair.

Approaching the bar, where he noticed the evening
gathering consisted mostly of Milton, Marc Ambergini
and the bartender exchanging conversation, Mike
inquired if someone could be of assistance in getting
his friend curbside.

"Yes, of course Mr. Fabreve. I'll gladly put some in
charge of that detail," Amir, Maquamat's chief
bartender replied, tearing himself away from the
threeway conversation.

"Enjoying the party, I see, Milton?"

"Oh yes and by the way, Michael, looks like I'm going
to have to cancel tomorrow evening's engagement with
you and Jason."

"I know he'll be deeply disappointed, but we'll let
you slide, Milton."

"Perhaps another time, Michael."

"Yes. Um, so what's with you and Ambergini?"

"I think we've both found something in common that
turns us on."

"Oh? This why you're letting Jason and I off the
hook?"

"Hee heee... I know you two are into kinky stuff,
but..."

"Kinky stuff? Into? What put that thought into your
head, Milton?"

"Why Clay said that.... oooooh Clay has been a bad
boy!"

Milton realizes the distinction between his thoughts
of Ambergini and that of the theater tech couple.

"So Clay has his hand in this, does he?"

"Doesn't matter now that I've got two willing players,
Michael."

"Hmm... Just the same. I'm happy that you divulged
that little tidbit of information, Milton."

"Oh, don't get angry at Clay, even though I know he
tried to get himself off the hook."

"Off the hook, huh?"

"Yes and...."

"Mr. Fabreve, your friend is being attended to," Amir
interrupts, nodding towards Jason being removed from
his chair.

"Oh, yeah..." Mike replied, looking over at his table,
seeing two mideastern gentleman helping Jase out of
his chair. "Thanks Amir."

"You're welcome, Mr. Fabreve."  Mike stuck a ten in
his palm.

Mike thanked the two over and over, as they lifted
Jase under his pits and helped him to the front door,
then the waiting cab.

"I will make sure you get home safely," one of the
men, an early twenties looking guy replied.

He told the maitre'd, referring to him as Habib, that
they would take it from there.

"Nice of you to help out, um..." Mike fished for an
introduction.

"My name is Rafi Abu Bakr, but I am called Rafi."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Michael Fabreve and this is
Jason Perry."

"I beg your pardon, I know you already."

Suddenly the cab lurches to a stop. Rafi begins a
raised vocal tongue lashing, in his native language.

"I take it you know that driver, Rafi? Hee heee.."

"My friend, Sihr Siraj-Al-Leil."

"HuH? I think you're going to have to spell that one
out for me Rafi."

"No matter. You can call him Sihr. I will tell him to
be very careful of his passengers in the car."

Sihr jumps out from behind the wheel, opening the rear
door on his side. He and Rafi arrange Jason in the
back seat. Rafi motions for Sihr to return to the
driver's seat, as he climbs in next to Jason. Michael
holds up his friend's other shoulder.

"Well, thank you, Rafi. Now, excuse me for putting
this bluntly, but just why is it that you are taking
very good care of this precious cargo?"

Michael could see the slight blush on Rafi's face.

"You see right through me Mr. Fabreve."

"Call me Michael, Rafi."

"Thank you. I see that you do not get fooled easily
Mr. Fabreve. You see, this man driving, is my... my um
partner."

"Like in lover type partner, Rafi?"

Looking down, then up, smiling, Rafi replies, "Yes."

"That's nothing to be ashamed of Rafi."

"It is for our people, to be homosexual."

"I see. Well, welcome to the club."

"Club, Mr. Fabreve?"

"Another saying for a group of gay guys, like him and
me," Michael refers to Jason and himself. "We are
partners, in as much as what I think you are trying to
put into words for yourself and Sihr."

"You say it much better, Mr. Fabreve."

"So now that we've gotten that out of the way, why is
it that you are having this conversation, Rafi?"

The way Michael put the details, made Rafi laugh. It
also set up the atmosphere for part two of their
conversing.

"Sihr and I would like to be a couple. To live
together and live life in a gay relationship."

"That shouldn't be so tough to do."

"No, except that we cannot do this, if we are in the
employment of Maquamat's. The others do not see things
as Sihr and I do."

"Hmm... I think I'm getting the picture, but it's not
quite focused yet, Rafi."

Jason, whom is sitting in the middle of the two, in
the backseat of the cab, falls towards Michael, as
they round a corner. Rafi's native tongue lets loose
it's banter on poor Sihr once more.

"Yikes! I almost feel sorry for Sihr!"

Rafi grins, then continues, "I tell Sihr he needs to
take some driving lessons."

"You mean we're driving around Manhattan with an
unlicensed lunatic at the wheel?"

"He has a license, but not from here. We will be
okay."

'Oh my!' Michael smiles, laughing to himself and
taking a more significant hold onto Jason's arm.

"So, what are your intentions, Rafi? Do you need some
advice?"

"Yes, but... you see, Mr. Fabreve, Sihr and me think
that if we can, maybe we can come work for you."

"Work for me? I didn't know I was even in the hiring!"

"We work for hardly anything, Mr. Fabreve. A meal and
place to lay down. Floor is okay."

"Hmm... And what kind of services would I be hiring
you two for, Rafi?"

"I am good cook. I can have meal ready for you
anytime. I be your houseman, too. I can be very polite
for you when you have guests."

"Hmm and what about the crazy cab driver?"

"He can take you anywhere free."

"Yeah, but what's there to guarantee that I get there
in one piece?"

"We work that out, Mr. Fabreve. What do you say?"

"Hmm... Why pick me, Rafi?"

"Because all night I see what nice man you are."

"And?"

"That is all. I see how you are with Mr., um Mr.
Jason. You care about him. Other men are loud and get
drunk. You do not, Mr. Fabreve."

"So, you targeted me because you think I'll a nice guy
and.."

"Mr. Fabreve,  Sihr and me need big break. This is
only way we get out of culture and become ourselfs.
Sihr, me, love each other. We see how you love Mr.
Jason. We want same."

"I'm going to have to think on this, as well as 'Mr.
Jason'."

Sihr says something to Rafi.

"What'd he say?"

"Sihr remind me that we.... we don't work at
Maquamat's."

"Don't tell me. You gave notice?"

"No, we quit tonight."

"Same difference. So, Rafi, you were so confidant that
I'd take you up on your offer that..."

"Please, Mr. Fabreve, we give you no problem. We serve
you well and you can trust us."

"Where do you live?"

Rafi and Sihr talk back in forth in the native tongue
once more.

"Let me guess. At this moment we're sitting in your
bedroom, Rafi?"

Rafi again converses with Sihr. Michael sees the smile
in the rearview mirror.

"Oh, so we've landed. I don't recall giving you my
address, Rafi?"

"You are all too smart for us, Mr. Fabreve."

Now that they've arrived at Michael's doorstep, he
ponders the situation rather diligently, but with
haste. He's not sure if this is all the two are after,
in light of the information Rafi has been feeding to
him. Having dealt with thousands of people of the
years, in the theater business, Michael's mental notes
are sitting well with him on these two. There might be
more than what the two suggest here, but he's willing
to take a chance. For sure he knows they are not going
to survive on their own in New York, without the
possibility of falling prey to vicarious means.

"Alright. For tonight at least you can stay, but we're
going to have to talk this out thoroughly, Rafi."

"Thank you Mr. Fabreve," Rafi says wholeheartedly,
placing his hand on Michael's.

Rafi says to Sihr, "Open gates, Sihr."

"So, he does know english?"

"Oh yes. We both speak english and have some college."

There seemed to be many mysteries involving both boys
and if anything, it piqued Michael's interest to seek
some answers here. He didn't think that meeting Rafi
and Sihr had happened without a reason. He wondered
what his role would be in helping them on their way.

%

"Could I make a suggestion Clay?"

"Sure Chiz."

"Instead of coming back here to your 'room', could we
detour to my place after Maquamat's?"

"Well, sure. If that's what you would like, Chiz."

The two had begun to assemble themselves in neat
attire. They both had lifted briefs to their waists,
deciding to forgo the tee shirts.  After Chiz had
sucked Clay's nips almost raw they stayed hard without
any teasing. While getting ready, a joke took flight
and they both decided to see what looks they would get
with their hard nips poking from their tux shirts.

"As long as we're dressing down, why don't we forgo
the tie, Chiz?"

"Oh no. You must learn how to tie it, Clay, since
you're going to be in high society with me from now
on."

"Really now, Chiz? I didn't realize we've come to that
conclusion."

"Guess I'm going to have to prove it to you, Clay."

Once again their lips circle each other's, dividing
teeth and taking in tongues. The buttons on Chiz's
shirt scrape up and down Clay's stomach.

"You're so sexy when you're half-dressed, Chiz."

"Hee heee... yeah, bet you didn't know buttons could
be so sensitive, did you Clay?"

"Rather kinky way of playing me up, Chiz, huh?"

"C'mon, let's hurry. I can't wait to wine and dine
you, Clay."

"I guess I better hustle for the hustler!"

Chiz left it as that, grinning away, as he stepped
into his tux pants, finished buttoning up to hide that
matt of chest hair and then whipping into tying the
bowtie.

"Hey, how am supposed to learn how to tie this damn
thing, if you already have your's tied, Chiz?"

"Turn around, fool!"

Clay loved the feeling of Chiz's hands on his back, as
he turned to face the mirror. Then with two arms
leaning over his shoulders, taking up the long black
fabric, he pressed his ass backwards to massage Chiz's
package.

"Mmmm, who knows Chiz?"

"What?"

"Maybe I'll never get the hang of tying a bowtie!"

Chiz, looking straight ahead, into the mirrored
reflection, states, "Aha! I figured there would be a
way to keep you around, Clay!"

After springing his middle finger against the
completed bowtie, Clay replies, "Hmm... nice job if I
may say so myself."

"Yeah, you did a good job of holding still, Clay."

"Now, I get to return the favor."

"Huh?"

Standing there, Clay picks up Chiz's two spit-polished
dress shoes and offers the chair to him. Taking up his
socks, he picks up Chiz's right foot and kisses it.

"Mmmmm...." Chiz gestures at the unique treatment.

For the next fifteen minutes, Clay takes liberties at
dressing Chiz's feet, completing the each task with
tongue and hand massaging, topped with tying his
shoelaces.

"Man, never had done before."

"Like it, Chiz?"

"Let's just say I can't wait to see how you peel them
off, Clay."

Placing his hands in Chiz's, Clay pulls him to his
dressed feet. They take their last imbibing of each
other's lips, before departing for the next phase of
their evening.

%

"Five minutes, Milton."

"Excellent, Amir. Looks like Mr. Ambergini might need
the help of your strongmen."

"I will alert them."

Amir walks out to the main foyer. In his native
tongue, he asks the maitre'd for Rafi's and Sihr's
assistance. He reports that they took the liberties of
taking Mr. Fabreve and his guest home. This displeases
Amir, who sets into a long diatribe of the two. Upset,
he reports to the kitchen, having two young men remove
their cooking wardrobe and dictate to them to dress
themselves appropriately for the duty at hand.

"What's wrong Amir?"

"Nothing that I cannot handle," the thirty-four year
old mideastern man replies.

"If you say so," Milton says.

The party has more than wound down, leaving Ambergini
sitting at a table, his elbow propped up, affixed to
his chin, a hand still around a half empty scotch
glass. Milton sits waiting, his lower region in
anticpation of the after party party.

In under five minutes, two young men come from the
side door and approach the bar. Amir, dressed in a
light leather jacket, directs the two to the position
of Ambergini and Milton.

"I have had the liberty of your limo parked at the
side door, Milton."

"Excellent. Uh, will these two gentlemen be
accompanying us, Amir?"

"Do you wish them to, Milton?"

"Depends on if they are into playing with us."

"They will do as I instruct them."

The two men look at each other, not happy at the
prospects of Amir's instruction, but follow along,
entering the limo after they have placed Ambergini
inside.


%

Chiz taps on the glass doors of Maquamat's.

"Looks like they're closed, Chiz."

"Looks that way, Clay, but I know some magic that will
get them open."

"Full of surprises, aren't you Chiz?"

A medium brown-skinned man arrives, unlocking one of
the double doors.

"I beg your pardon sir's but Maquamat's is closed for
this evening."

"Maybe this will change your mind?"

Chiz reaches in his pocket, takes out a couple of
bills and places them in the maitre'd's hand.

"As you wish, sir. Right this way."

A couple of clicks lock the front entranceway. He
escorts the two suave, handsomely dressed men through
a maze of diningrooms.

"No, this wouldn't do."

"I beg your pardon, sir?"

"I would like your best seating arrangement, please."

After another bill is delivered from hand to hand, the
maitre'd escorts the two in front of an elevator.
After entering, they speed upwards. When the doors
open, it seems like they are at the top of the world.

"Wow! This is awesome, Chiz."

Chiz instructs the maitre'd, "I'd like a full staff,
please."

"But sir, we..."

"Unless I should inform my uncle to seek other dining
arrangements?"

It's apparent that the maitre'd knew Chiz's
connections, right away adherring to his wishes and
bowing to his requests. Within two minutes, a man
popped out of the elevator and headed to the bar. Soft
music began playing, lights began sparkling in the
room, the wooden dance floor became a dim shadow.

"Care to dance, Clay?"

"Sure, Chiz."

Chiz, like a gentleman, directed Clay towards the
shiny plywood.

"Hey, this is nice!"

Before they were thirty seconds into their slow
number, a waiter appeared with a tray of two flutes of
champaynge.

"Sirs, courtesy of Maquamat's."

Clay could see this as the norm for Chiz, but for
himself, it seemed all quite elegant.

"This is nice!"

"Tonight is going to be our very special night, Clay."

"Oh? What's so special, besides you?"

"Well, I'm hoping tonight will be the start of every
night after this together, for us."

"That's sweet, Chiz."

"I want it to be real special for us."

"You're not wasting any time, that's for sure."

As the waiter actually stood there on the dance floor,
he acted as if he were the table, holding their drinks
until they decided to take another sip.

"You're a great dancer, Clay."

"Thanks."

"I knew you could be fast on your feet, but you're so
much more sensual..."

Clay didn't let Chiz compliment him anymore. Without
reservation of whomever 'saw', Clay pronounced a set
of lip locks on Chiz.

"Mmmmm..."

The loss of the undershirts afforded Chiz to unbutton
the midsection of Clay's tux shirt and move his hands
inside, to caress the smooth sides of his body. Clay
followed, but placing his hand inside the jacket and
massaging Chiz's shirt against his fine physique.

"Hungry?"

"Depends on what the menu is!"

Chiz got Clay's inference, but knew that 'that' menu
wouldn't be ready for serving until much later. Most
likely in the early morning hours. They proceeded to
their table. The only table located in the vast
expanse of dining pleasures, located near the rather
large plate glass wall that took in the whole
Manhattan skyline.

"Why don't you order for us Chiz. I take it you've
been here before."

"Many times, but only once a year."

"Oh? How does that go, Chiz?"

"Every year since I was twelve, Uncle brings me here
for my birthday."

"I suppose you want me to do the math?"

"Yes, before I cloud it with too much champaynge and
my loving?"

"Hee heee... you're something alright, Chiz."

The waiter must've picked up on the 'bubbly' word.
>From a tray of freshly poured flutes, he set one of
each on their table.

"To us!" Chiz proclaimed.

"To you and I!" Clay followed up, grinning, a special
glint in his eye.

%

"Um, this sofa opens up, if you and Sihr would like to
sleep in it, Rafi."

"That is kind of you. We accept, but first we prepare
you for rest."

"Uh, I beg your pardon?"

Michael stood there in the large room, facing the
sofa, where the knocked-out frame of Jason lay,
snoring.

"Sihr and I will help you take Mr. Jason to your
room."

"Oh sure. Okay. Just wondering what you meant."

Rafi figured it would be easier to show Michael his
and Sihr's intentions, rather then go into the
explaining. In this case, actions would be speaking
much louder than the two's words.

Leading the way up the wide staircase, he kept looking
back to make sure Rafi and Sihr took good care of
Jason. Michael stood amazed at how gracefully they had
placed him in a position, arms locked behind his back
and their other set of arms, making a seat for him, as
they ascended the stairs.

"This way Rafi."

"You lead. We follow," Sihr said.

It's the first sentence Michael heard from Sihr's
lips. In fact he had to giggle to himself at the
manner in which it came out.

"Here we are. You can place him right on the bed and
I'll..."

"Would you direct us to your washroom, please, Mr.
Fabreve?"

"Um, you don't have to.... yeah, okay, it's right this
way."

Michael, a bit tired from the evening, didn't feel
like giving a song and a dance. Besides he figured the
guys wanted to give a little 'payback' for the
evening, after extending his kindness.

"Very nice, Mr. Fabreve," Rafi replied of the rather
large room.

Both took Jason and set him on a wooden bench, that
lay against he wall.

"Okay, I think I can...."

Before Michael could get a word in edgewise, he found
Rafi behind him, removing his tux jacket.

"Really, I think that I..."

"We would like to show you our thankfulness, Mr.
Fabreve."

"Well, okay."

Michael kind of liked the treatment and being this
late hour of the night, almost two hands together on
the clock, he decided to let matters proceed.

>From his perspective, watching Sihr slowly work Jason
out of his glad rags, gave him quite the strip show.
At first he tried looking around Sihr, to catch
glimpses of Jason's barechest. Then Rafi said
something to Sihr and he moved to the side.

"Hmm, is this part of the everyday service rendered
upon us, Rafi?"

"If you wish it. Sihr and I will serve you well, Mr.
Fabreve."

"Michael," he replies to Rafi, at adressing, while
undressing him.

Michael is down to his briefs, as Jason lays out
lengthwise on the bench, his arms at his sides. Sihr
gets up, walks to the bathtub and turns on the
faucets.

"Hmm, this one of the ways you're going to weasel your
way into our lives, Rafi?"

"Sorry, Mr. Michael?"

"Um, nevermind."

For now, Michael is playing it by ear.

Rafi knows Michael is loving this, as he ponders the
question on how to remove his briefs over the rather
large erection.
He looks down over Michael's shoulder, then catches
Sihr's eyes, as he rises up from squatting near the
faucets. Sihr makes a whistling noise, his index
finger flicking through the air.

Michael looks down as two hands surround his torso and
fingers slip under the elastic on his briefs. Rafi's
hands project forward to account for the bulge,
unpacking the cotton lingerie. He moves them down the
hairy thighs. Similar to removing the dress slacks,
Michael turns to Rafi, rests his hands on the mideast
man's shoulders and lifts each leg to remove the
briefs.

>From behind him, he hears a splash. With his mouth
open and gaping, he watches as Sihr's hairy ass is
lowering Jason into the tub. Before he can grasp on
the situation, he feels a bare body next to himself.

"After you, Mr. Michael?"

Right now, Michael is not up to arguing. At least
that's what all his senses are telling him.

%

"Chiz, this is great."

"Do you like the food, Clay?"

"It's great. I'm not use to eating this good."

"Clay, I want to talk to you about something."

"Um, the dessert?"

"Nooooo." Chiz chuckles. "I just want you to know that
I don't normally throw my money around to get places."

"Hmm.."

"I don't."

"Chiz, you don't have to explain yourself. I don't
have the right to have to know what you do with your
money."

"You do, Clay, if I want to share it."

"OKay, how about we take off for Aspen and we stop and
get a couple of diamond rings on the way and....."

"Clay, stop it, damn it!"

Clay realizes he struck a wrong nerve.

"Oh... sorry Chiz. Just fooling around."

Chiz took his napkin out of his lap and placed it over
his half-eaten plate.

"No, I'm sorry Clay."

"Nah. I guess I just spoiled our evening."

"No, it's my fault, Clay. Sometimes I let my
sensitivity get the best of me."

"I got an idea, Chiz."

"What?"

"Can we finish up here and go somewhere else?"

"You're not comfortable here, Clay? I thought you
would enjoy it."

"I am, Chiz. But I don't need all this fancy stuff to
be with you."

"Okay."

Clay smiled when Chiz snapped his fingers and a waiter
came over.

"What's so funny, Clay?"

"You."

"Picking on me again, huh?"

"It's just like in the movies when the rich guy wants
something and at the snap of fingers, it happens."

"Did I just do that?"

"Yeah."

"Oh man, I hated it when uncle did that!"

"Hee hee... picking up on bad habits, huh Chiz?"

"C'mon, let's get outta here."

"What about the tab?"

"Ever hear of 'buy now, pay later'?"

"Yeah, that's what's wrong with the whole fuckin'
economy!"

"It works here, so don't knock it!"

The two make their guided descent via the elevator,
are escorted to the door.

"May I call a cab for you Mr. Caramallo?"

"Um, no I think we'll walk."

"Very well sir."

As they make their exit, the maitre'd allows another
lad out with them.

"Hey, Chiz?"

"Yeah, Clay?"

"Don't look now, but we're being followed!"

"Hee heeee... yeah. Kind of a habit that uncle
started. It's called plainclothes security."

"You're kidding?"

"No. I kid you not. Don't worry. Whoever it is will
mind his own business."

"Got an idea."

"What?"

"Why don't you ask him to come walk with us."

"Why Clay?"

"I don't know. Show the guy a fun night. You know,
like one of your big tips."

"He is kind of cute."

"Hey, but don't get any ideas about replacing me,
Chiz."

"Never. Okay, let's do it! Hey, kid!"

"Me, Sir?"

"Yeah, come here a minute."

"Something wrong, sir?"

As the young guy approached, couldn't have been more
than nineteen, twenty, Clay and Chiz have him stand
between them.

"What's your name?"

"Shaheen."

"Shaheen," Chiz states, "we want you to be our friend
tonight."

"Friend?"

"Sure. Enjoy having fun with us."

"I am not supposed to do that. Boukra says I should
follow you until you are home safely."

"You leave Boukra to me. For tonight..." Chiz assures
Shaheen.

Clay butts in, "It's morning, Chiz."

"Okay, for whatever time it is that we are having a
good time, you are going to accompany us."

"I will need to be at work tomorrow afternoon."

"Not if you're still following us, Shaheen!"

Shaheen's face looks skeptical, as the three buds walk
on down the boulevard. They board the subway and
travel for about ten blocks, getting out and riding
the escalator to the main floor.

"Grand Central Station?"

"Yes, Shaheen and I can guarantee that you wouldn't be
at work tomorrow afternoon."

"Um, Chiz?"

"Yes, Clay?"

"I have to be at the theater at six. Remember?"

"Clay, why do you think you have an understudy?"

"No way. Rob's there in case I'm sick or something."

"Oh come on. Missing one performance is not going to
kill the ratings."

"On the contrary. Rob might steal the show!"

Clay waits for Chiz's reaction and then begins
laughing. Shaheen smiles, watching Chiz give Clay a
noogie.

"So, where are we going?"

"Kennedy."

"Why are we going to Kennedy, Chiz?"

"Why else do people go to an airport?"

"Dah, Chiz!"

Shaheen is going along with the two's antics. The dark
haired jock-type twenty year old watches the two
interact, smiling where he thinks they show off their
hilarity. Sometimes he is not sure that they are
trying to be funny or are serious. After awhile he
sees that the two can be both and laugh a lot.

"I am glad I came along with you Chiz."

"You are, Shaheen?"

"Yes."

"We need to get you more comfortable."

"I am happy with my waiter's uniform."

Clay says to Shaheen, "If what I think Chiz has in
mind for us, Shaheen, you're going to look mighty out
of place in those duds!"

"And what is it you think I have planned for us,
Clay?"

"I dunno, but whatever it is, it better be loose!"

"Hmm... just might be at that, Clay."

Shaheen notices how Chiz puts his arm around Clay when
he talks. They walk and talk quite close to one
another. At the same time, Shaheen feels his sexual
organs twitching at the contact.

"Mr. Caramallo?"

"Oh my God, Shaheen, it's Chiz and this is Clay."

Clay kids, "I can't believe that we've know you for an
hour already Shaheen and we didn't introduce
ourselves. How come you didn't do that, Chiz?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. You're the host!"

"Shaheen, I'm wholeheartedly sorry that I didn't
introduce you to this dufous!"

"Dufous huh?"

Shaheen gets a kick out of watching the two cut up. He
laughs out loudly when he views Clay pinch Chiz's ass,
then hightails it across Grand Central Station, with
Chiz in hot pursuit. They run around the almost vacant
seating arrangement, people watching the melee. That
is, until Clay plows into a security guard.

"Oh, sorry sir."

"A little too grown up for kids play, aren't we?"

"Yeah, sorry."

"You look familiar."

"Oh, yeah. My name's Clay Hawkings."

"Aren't you the guy in 'Long Distance Loving'?"

"Love."

"Yeah, whatever. Well, it's a pleasure to meet you."

By this time, Chiz and Shaheen have gathered around
the security man and Clay, eavesdropping. Chiz, leans
with his arm on Shaheen's shoulder.

"Clay, you going to introduce us?"

"Oh yeah. Um, who are you anyway?"

"Oh, sorry about that. Nice to meet you. I'm George
Kapono."

"Nice to meet you George," Clay rubs it in, shaking
his hand.

"Yeah, well sorry. I guess I got too wrapped up in
you."

All the time the conversation is warming up, George's
eyes are warming up in Shaheen's direction.

"Hey, what are they doing over there with all those
cameras, George?"

"The reason I'm here. To keep guys like you from
tripping over the equipment."

Clay apologizes, "Oh, then sorry we gave you a hard
time, George."

"We?" Chiz directs, "If you hadn't pinched.."

Chiz gets a wallop in the tummy with the back of
Clay's hand.

"This is my boyfriend..." Clay realizes he's slipped,
but then figures it's water under the bridge, "Chiz
Caramallo and our friend, Shaheen."

"Nice to meet you."

Chiz looks at Clay and they smile at each other, as
George's hand goes right to Shaheen's.

"Excuse me, George!" Chiz says sarcastically, as
George side-swipes him.

"Oh, sorry about that. Yes, it's good to meet you too,
Chess."

"Chiz."

"Oh yea, pardon me."

Both can see that the young guy doesn't seem to be
much older, if that, than Shaheen. Though Clay and
Chiz, now standing together, about two feet from the
other two see that George is kind of the mannerly man
about.

"Dying breed."

"What is, Chiz?"

"Chivalry."

"Oh, George you mean?"

"Yeah, you weren't even that polite."

"I beg your fuckin' pardon, Chiz?"

"Hee heee... tearing off stage and leaving me there
with my uncle to fight your battles, Clay?"

"Fuck that, Chiz. I did that on purpose so that it
would give you the guts to stand up to him... but I
can see you're still the little wimp!"

"Wimp, eh? I'd start tickling your privates, only I
don't want George here to have fifty conniptions."

"Huh?"

"Nothing George. Just telling Clay here that you're
not interested in having him autograph your chest."

"Whaaaaat?"

"He's joking George! Chiz is a real joker."

"Oh. Okay. Not that I wouldn't be against it, but it
is kind of forward of you Clay."

"Hmm... you wouldn't be adverse to it, huh George?"

"Um, listen guys, I've got another fifteen minutes to
kill and Shaheen tells me that you're off on some
adventure. Mind if I tag along?"

"No, not at all George. Where should be wait for you?"

"Right here is good. Let me inform the camera crew."

Before either of them can acknowledge, George is
history.

"So, Shaheen. You and George have something going?"
Clay interrogates the mideastern jock.

"Going?"

In a row of ten unoccupied chairs, the three take up
space.

"Shaheen, are you gay?" Chiz asks right out.

Looking down, the twenty year old picks at his
fingernails.

Clay responds, his hand on the boy's shoulder, "You
don't have to answer if you don't want to Shaheen."

"I'm not allowed to be gay."

Chiz and Clay glance at each other, looking between
the troubled lad.

"But, Shaheen 'are' you gay?"

"I like men."

"Then you're gay."

"But..."

Clay takes the helm, "Shaheen, you can't fight what
you are. If it's a disease, yes, you fight it. But
somebody whom you are deep down inside you have to let
it out. Let it blossom."

"Clay's right, Shaheen. If you put all your forces
behind hiding the truth to what you are, it's only
going to twist you up and make you unhappy."

"I want to be who I am. I kind of like Keoki."

"Keyoaki? What's that?"

"George. His name is really Keoki. He is Hawaiian."

"Hmm, I was wondering with a lastname like Cabono."

"It's Keoki Kapono."

Chiz kids, "Wow! You got that much out of George?"

Clay directs his way, "Shut up pencilneck!" Clay says
to Chiz, then back to Shaheen, "If you like George...
Keyoaki, then you should cut loose and go for him,
Shaheen."

"It is not that simple. My brothers will not allow
that."

"Your brothers?"

"At Maquamat's."

"I didn't know it was a family business."

"It's not a family business, Chiz. I call them my
brothers, because we are of one people."

"Hmm... well, if they are not letting you be who you
are, then I  wouldn't call them exactly family."

"Chiz is right, Shaheen. 'Family' makes other family
members happy and sticks by them."

"This is all so very hard to understand."

"Yeah, I know Shaheen."

"What's hard to understand?" The enclosing voice
replies.

"Oh, George, you're back!"

George sure was back and nothing as pictured before,
in his black unform. Even Shaheen had to stand and
look at him dressed in the polo shirt, open at the
top, showing off a mass of black hair that one could
only speculate where it began and ended. The boot cut
jeans showed off his rounded torso and the strap boots
looked like they cost a pretty penny.

"Keoki, you look..." Shaheen took down a gulp, "very
nice."

"Thank you Shaheen. Well, here I am. Where are you
guys headed?"

After the initial shock wears off, Clay says, "Chiz is
the one keeping us in suspense."

"Then Chiz, where are we headed?"

"I thought maybe we'd take a quick trip to Ft.
Lauderdale."

Clay almost hits the dirt.

"Ft. Lauderdale, Chiz? That's like way down yonder!"

After registering with Shaheen, "Oh, that's way out of
the question. I'll never get back to my job by four."

"I think it sounds cool," George says nonchalantly.

"At least somebody's with me," Chiz responds, giving
Clay the evil stare.

"Don't look at me like that, Chiz Caramallo. This is
all totally absurd."

George adds, "Of course we all pay our own way."

"Count me out," Shaheen replies.

"What I meant," George continues, "is I pay for
Shaheen and myself and you, Chiz are responsible for
your date."

That sounded totally agreeable to Chiz. He liked
George's style, even though his intentions were to pay
for all four of them. From the look at George's
wardrobe, whether the other's recognized it, Chiz knew
that if George could afford the Lacoste polo shirt,
the Cavalli jeans and Ferragamo boots, he could most
likely afford a trip around the world sixty times!
Though on a security guard's salary, kind of bothered
his curiousity.

For Shaheen, he didn't want to accept it, but he fell
back on Chiz's and Clay's words from their chat. Plus
the fact that he already had been treated to feeling
the electricity of Keoki's arm around his shoulder
made him want to explore his impulses.

"So, are we going to stand around and waste time or go
waste some loot?"

"Chiz you know you're crazy?"

"I know Clay. Crazy times demand craziness!"

The two walked off towards the shuttle to Kennedy.

continued....


        copyright 2005 T. Chase McPhee  All Rights Reserved.

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       Permission is NOT granted to publish
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       that is not listed above, without the
       author's prior consent.


dont strike a fault, unless you can admit you've slipped..T Chase McPhee