Date: Thu, 28 Feb 2008 09:34:14 -0500
From: carl_mason@verizon.net
Subject: DENNY LAWRENCE - 6

DENNY LAWRENCE - 6


Copyright 2008 by Carl Mason

All rights reserved.  Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal
enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without
the written permission of the author.  However based on real events and
places, "Denny Lawrence" is strictly fictional.  Any resemblance to actual
events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.  As
in real life, sexual themes unfold gradually.  Comments on the story are
appreciated and may be addressed to the author at carl_mason@verizon.net

If you would like to read additional stories by this author, please turn to
the "Authors/Prolific Authors" link at the beginning of the Nifty Archive.

This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both
adults and teenagers.  As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the
personal enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature, adults.  If you are not of
legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you
trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral
dilemmas in your life, please leave.  Finally, remember that maturity
generally demands safe sex.


CHAPTER 6

(Revisiting Chapter 5)

That night at the Bar-B-Q, Colin sat on Coach's right, Andy on his left,
and Billy in between his legs!  Denny did meet Corky's brother - long on
brawn and short on brains, as he had feared.  He was also buttonholed by a
jubilant Kevin Riley, Colin's dad.  Finally, he encountered one Pat Mahan,
who simply grinned, put a big hand around the back of his neck, and touched
foreheads.

(Continuing Our Story - the Pits of Hell)

"Well, Denny, enough of this country club life.  Summer camp indeed!" joked
Pat.  "Be forewarned that within 24 to 36 hours, you'll be going down into
one of the deepest coal mines in the country.  It's West Virginia for you,
laddie!"  "Ok, boss, but that means you've got to send me off filled with
confidence and hope," Denny snickered.  With that, he stood up from the
couch, dropped his cargo shorts, came over to Pat's chair, and lay down
chest-to-chest on top of his mentor.  "Are you sure it's confidence and
hope you're after, Coach?" Pat asked, grinning like a Chessie cat.  "Any
port in a storm," the boy sighed, locking onto his lover's lips.  Some time
later, it was a deeply satisfied young man whom the good doctor wrapped in
his arms, kissed good night, and drew close to his body.  "I love you like
crazy," the good doctor whispered.  "Me, too, Doc," responded Denny.

As the gray fog closed over the valley, the Company SUV drew closer to the
mine entrance.  Moisture was dripping from everything in sight, including
the handful of dispirited miners who stood around waiting for the beginning
of the shift.  Soon they would enter the cage and descend hundreds of feet
to the coal seam below.

Two Company officials had joined Denny, plus a federal inspector from the
Mine Safety and Health Administration (MSHA) of the U.S. Department of
Labor.  Pat Johnson, a coal company official, had been talking up a storm
since they picked the young man up at the airport.  "You have some good
friends in Washington, Mr.  Lawrence," Johnson exclaimed.  "If we can help
you to prepare for a career in mining, we'll be happy to do so."  "Yes,"
Mr. Harley, the MSHA inspector, added, "in the public or the private
service...  I can't say the Government pays as well as a private company,
but they both have important functions to perform - and we are always on
the outlook for bright young men and women.  By the way, you will give my
greetings to Dr. Mahan?  I attended one of his seminars in Washington, and
found his analysis of problems faced by young men entering Government
service to be riveting."  "Absolutely, sir," Denny responded.  "It will be
my pleasure.  Actually, he was the one who fired my interest in mine
safety, especially as affected by the Sago disaster."

"Let's hope that you don't get to see anything like that!" Johnson
protested.  "There have been a lot of changes around here since Sago lost
those twelve men in early '06.  Now...  While the shifts change, we'll stop
by the office, have a cup of coffee, see a computer schematic of the mine,
and then go down ourselves."

As the white SUV approached the mine office, a company official stood
outside on the porch awaiting them.  As everyone got out of the vehicle,
pulled their coats around them in the cold drizzle, and headed for the
door, he spoke vigorously with Pat Johnson.  In turn, Johnson came over to
Denny as he stood enjoying a hot cup of coffee in the anteroom of that
which turned out to be the control room of the mine.  (In a contemporary
mine, all facilities are closely monitored electronically: water levels,
air ventilation, methane levels, and various mining, transportation, and
storage areas.)

"Mr.  Lawrence, if I may speak privately with you for a moment," Johnson
said quietly.  "Something rather special has happened.  With your
permission, your inspection of this facility will be delayed for a short
time.  We have had several messages from the home office of our parent
company, Fargo Mining, in New York City.  Both the CEO [Chief Executive
Officer] and the CFO [Chief Financial Officer] have indicated a desire to
meet you.  I should say that this represents a significant courtesy both to
you and your mentor, Dr. Mahan.  Fargo is the largest mining conglomerate
in the country.  The status of its officers and their location could give
you an unparalleled opportunity to see another face of contemporary mining.
If you accept their invitation, we shall take you down to Manhattan within
the hour.  Naturally, we would hope to resume this inspection on your
return."  Denny's prompt acceptance of the invitation touched off a
whirlwind of activity.

(Valleys of Concrete and Steel)

The small executive jet nearly glided over the mountains and into Greater
New York City without incident.  At the airport, Denny was met by a
uniformed Company employee and taken by Mercedes limousine to the Fargo
Building on Madison Avenue.  In truth, the seventeen year-old head was
spinning as he was zipped up to the executive offices, greeted by an
elegantly dressed secretary, and shown into the CEO's suite after waiting
but four minutes!

"Mr.  Lawrence, welcome!" boomed an impressive, silver-haired older man as
he stepped from behind his desk, his hand outstretched.  "So you're the
young man whom both Pat Mahan and my CFO can't stop praising!  I'm Oliver
Culver.  May I call you
 Denny'?"  "Of course, sir," the youngster murmured, realizing that it was
a courtesy that couldn't be returned.  Guided over to a grouping of
comfortable chairs in front of a cheery fire in the fireplace, Denny
accepted a cup of coffee from a white-coated waiter.  Small china plates,
silverware, linen napkins, and a selection of finger pastries were on a
small table at his side.  "There's someone else who has been waiting to
meet you, Denny.  Let me buzz him."  Almost immediately, another elegantly
dressed executive joined them, a very light blond, somewhat on the slight
side, probably in his very late 30s or early 40s.  Denny was almost sure he
had seen him...somewhere.  "Denny," Culver continued, "I would like you to
meet William Walker, Sr., my Chief Financial Officer."  Everything
immediately fell into place for Denny.  This man had to be the father of
Billy Walker, the boy who had scored the goal against the Bruins on Camp
Day!  "You already know who I am!" Walker chortled.  "Sorry I couldn't get
up to the lake on Camp Day, but this meeting - and our having met your
mentor in Washington - may tell you how sorry I...we are."  For a good
three-quarters of an hour, the two executives and the teen talked
informally...and most pleasantly.  As Pat Johnson, the Company officer up
at the mine had surmised, he had indeed fallen into an exciting
opportunity.

After lunch, Denny was shown a great deal of the Fargo operation - and
learned much about coal mining in the United States.  The Walkers hosted a
delightful light supper at their apartment on Park Avenue.  Needless to
say, Billy (who was home from his boarding school for the occasion) was out
of his mind with excitement - and very pleased that his father was
assisting "Coach."  When supper was over, Mr. Walker took the two teens to
a night baseball game in Yankee Stadium after which Denny was returned to
Manhattan where he was to spend the night at the apartment of Oliver
Culver.

The CEO's apartment was located in the penthouse of a building that faced
Central Park.  One entire wall of the richly decorated living room, the
wall facing the Park, was glassed.  Denny and Oliver Culver sat facing each
other, the older man sipping a Scotch; the younger, his second beer of the
evening.  (He had already had one beer at the ballpark.)  "I'm so very
grateful, sir," Denny was saying.  "It's been a super day!"  "Wonderful,
Denny, I'm glad you enjoyed it.  I rather think you earned it.  Are you, by
the way, on a tight schedule?"  "No, sir," the teen responded, "though I do
hope to go down in the mine when we are through."  "That will be no
problem," Culver said, admiring his Scotch against the light, "but let me
add one more opportunity to your cache.  At last week's opening of Peter
Willingsly's new show, I learned that he's still seeking a model for an
important new project.  Frankly, I consider Peter to be one of the nation's
most promising young artists.  Were you interested, I should be happy to
introduce you."

The upshot of all this was that Culver escorted Denny to Willingsly's
studio the next morning.  After the distinguished executive had been
welcomed as the important patron of the arts that he was and Denny had been
introduced, they sat down together for a short conversation.  Peter
graciously explained that he had recently received a significant new
commission, but, as yet, he hadn't found the right model for it.
"Sometimes you have to have the right model or there's no use beginning,"
he said pleasantly, if a bit sadly.  "This model must be young - which is
no problem - but he must also be an athlete and have a certain presence
about him.  That combination can create a problem.  I admire Mr. Culver's
eye.  Obviously, he thinks that I ought to consider you - and I agree.  If
you are the right man, by the way, there is a generous model's fee that
goes with this job.  Interested in finding out?"

When Denny grinned and indicated that he was most interested, Peter told
him to go into the next room, completely disrobe, put on one of the robes
that he would find on a hook, and return to stand on the dais in his
studio.  As the boy turned to follow his instructions, Culver rose to
leave.  "There is no problem in your remaining, sir," Peter said
immediately, "unless the lad has one.  Denny?"  "No, sir, I have no
problem," an excited young man almost babbled.  Peter turned a spotlight on
the small dais and then rejoined Culver.  Within a short time, Denny
reappeared, stepped up on the dais, slowly allowed the robe to slip from
his shoulders and then from the rest of his body.  Both observers gasped.

The youthful face with its thick crown of curly dark blond hair, the
penetrating emerald green eyes, the nearly smooth, magnificently muscled
torso set off by heavy arms, the derriere that belonged on a Greek athlete
of classical times - an ass that simply flowed into long, muscled thighs
and powerful calves - the perfect genitals that complemented his body with
their large, heavy nuts hanging low in their soft sack between his legs,
the tanned, luminous skin that seemed barely to stretch over his muscles.
Had he been made of marble or bronze, he would have been found in no lesser
home than the Metropolitan Museum of Art itself!

The artist had dreamed of this model since first he began thinking of the
project.  "Thank you, sir," he whispered to Culver as he wiped a tear from
his eye.  "Denny, if you're interested," he continued, "this is a private
commission that carries a five thousand dollar model's fee with completion
bonuses!"  Turning back to a smiling Oliver Culver, he said, "Take care of
this treasure, sir, and return him to me tomorrow.  He doesn't need much
polishing to have him ready for work."  Placing his hand on Denny's muscled
back, he said with a wide smile, "Do your very best to follow Mr. Culver's
instructions tonight, lad.  He knows exactly how to prepare you for
tomorrow."

Later that evening, Denny lay naked on a padded table in Culver's
apartment.  "Very well, my young friend, I suggest that you need do nothing
beyond removing a few stray hairs on your torso, thighs, and groin, as well
as making sure that no hair is touching your genitals.  Afterwards, I would
rub you down with a fine oil that will begin to maximize your skin tone.
If that is satisfactory, I shall take care of it."  "That's fine, sir,"
Denny responded.  "Please go ahead."  After Denny had enjoyed a glass of
cold soda, the executive quickly removed the small amount of hair that he
had mentioned.  When finished, he directed the teen to take as hot a bath
as he could stand and call him when finished.  When Denny called, he came
back to the bathroom, helped him from the large tub, and carefully dried
his glorious body, using both a heated towel and his hands.  The hot bath
and Culver's massaging hands completely finished Denny off, physically and
emotionally.  He felt weak and dizzy; he swayed and would have fallen twice
had the man not caught him and held him in his arms.  "Before proceeding
with the oil massage, Denny, I think you had better come out into the
living room and rest for a few minutes.  Then we'll go ahead."  "Yes, sir,
good idea," he boy answered weakly.  Sitting down on the sofa, Culver
helped the youngster to stretch out on his back, his torso in the man's
lap, his lower body on the sofa.  With soft music in the background, he
slowly stroked Denny's hair, his face, neck, his arms from shoulder to
fingers, and his pecs, fingering his nipples before moving on to his abs
and his lower stomach.  Though he still felt weak and dizzy, the boy sensed
his growing arousal.  "You are absolutely beautiful, you know," the older
man murmured.  About to try to say something, Denny slowly realized that
one of Culver's hands had lifted his long, swelling cock while the other
cupped his massive balls.  It wasn't right, but he was so tired and it felt
so good.  Gradually, he felt himself letting go, completely relaxing as the
light from the lamp on the table beside the couch faded and then
disappeared from his vision.

Sometime during the night Denny awakened to find himself tucked warmly into
his bed.  A small lamp, little more than a nightlight, illuminated his
immediate surroundings.  Feeling completely relaxed, completely at peace,
he quickly fell back asleep and did not stir until Culver pounded on his
door and said that breakfast would be ready in fifteen minutes and that his
bathrobe would be sufficient.  Jumping out of bed and staggering into the
adjoining bathroom, he peed a gallon, splashed cold water into his face,
brushed his teeth, and combed his hair.  Suddenly, he snapped into full
consciousness.  Dear God!  He felt g-r-e-a-t!  Yes, he was rested, but
there was more.  Every sense was working at optimal acuteness.  Had he been
a predator, he could have caught anything in the forest.  Had he been at
home, he would have stolen into the kitchen in the nude and tried to
surprise Pat.  Yikes!  He WAS in the nude.  Hearing Culver's voice calling
him again to breakfast, he quickly scanned the bedroom for his briefs.  Not
seeing them, he simply wrapped himself in the bathrobe that was draped over
a chair and padded towards the kitchen.

"Denny!  Good morning!  Glad to see you among the living!" greeted his
ebullient host.  "I guess I kinda zonked out last night, didn't I?  Sorry,"
offered a rather shamefaced youngster.  "Not at all, Denny!" the man
responded.  "Not at all!  You were exhausted from all the excitement of
recent days.  Additionally, some of it was my fault."  "Your fault, sir?"
inquired the boy.  "Yes, Denny.  Following Peter's instructions, I gave you
a mild sedative during the evening.  Given your responsibilities and the
great rewards that are possible for both of you, it was necessary to relax
and get a good night's sleep.  Unfortunately, I obviously gave you a drop
more than your system needed.  I'm the one who needs to apologize."  The
teen quickly responded, for he believed that the mystery had been solved,
though he still wondered why he felt quite so good.  "As you said, sir, not
at all!  No damage done.  In fact I feel great!  If anything, I feel a
little on edge...a bit too much adrenalin, you know?"  Culver came over in
back of Denny's chair, peeled the bathrobe back from his heavy shoulders,
and massaged the lad's delts and traps for a minute or two.  He even
allowed his fingers to drift down onto the boy's solid pecs before he
lightly boxed an ear and said affectionately, "That's it!  Eat!"  Denny
caught one hand before it was withdrawn completely and held it against his
cheek.  "Thank you, sir," he whispered.

Once he was ready to go, Peter Willingsly didn't hesitate...for a
moment. Authoritatively, he arranged two simple props, guided the naked lad
into the desired pose, and quickly snapped a digital photo.  Laughing
delightedly, he showed the monitor to both Culver and his model.  Both
caught their breath, for the photo was so sensual that each man felt his
cock lurch in sharp response.  Immediately after Culver had left for his
office, Peter began painting.  There was no wasted movement in his work.
This canvas had been in his mind's eye for some time.  He knew exactly how
to proceed.  Every so often he would give Denny a short break, joking with
him and allowing a small amount of water when requested.  At one point in
the early afternoon, Denny developed a charley horse in his thigh.
Stopping immediately, Peter had the boy lie down on the floor and then
began firmly rubbing the quadriceps from top to bottom.  When that didn't
completely do the trick, he had the young athlete stand on his "good leg"
and grasp the ankle of the leg that had the cramp from behind.  He directed
him slowly to pull the ankle of the injured leg towards his buttocks and
hold it for 10 or 15 seconds.  "I'll remember that remedy for lacrosse,"
Denny laughed, resuming his position on the dais.

On that evening - and the two that followed - Denny allowed Oliver Culver
to cleanse his body and rub a fine oil into the skin until its glory was
fully restored.  On the final night - the night that preceded his return to
the mine and thence home - he grasped the elder man's hand, pulled it
against him, and guided its touching him intimately.  "Are you sure,
Denny?" his host had gasped.  The boy quietly smiled, nodded, and watched
while Culver removed his clothing, folded it, and placed it on a nearby
chair.  The silver- haired executive, in surprisingly good physical shape,
lay down beside the youth.  Reaching up to kiss him, he felt the boy's arms
wrap themselves around his torso and pull their bodies together.  With
consummate skill...and great affection...he accepted the youngster's rich
gift.

Two weeks later, at home, Denny opened an envelope from the Willingsly
Gallery, read a note of thanks from Peter, and unfolded a seven thousand
five hundred dollar check!  "Our patron felt that it was the best piece of
work I have ever done - and I tend to agree," he wrote.  "As you can see,
he was very generous.  Thank you, and much love, Peter.  P.S. Oliver sends
his love, too, and joins me in hoping that we shall see you again ere
long."


To Be Continued