Date: Mon, 3 Apr 2000 00:21:53 EDT From: Justin69SK@aol.com Subject: My Little Friend My Little Friend Written By: Justin Case 4/2/00 --------- DISCLAIMER: This story is about young gay love. It contains sexual encounters, described in a graphic manner. If reading this material is illegal where you are, you should leave this site now. If this story or subject content is not for you, just leave. This story while, fiction is based on fact. I should know I was there. This story was written by me, as my gift to you. It is my intention to give you hope. If you think the story is about you, you must be mistaken. Unless you know me, and I doubt that you do, any similarities are purely coincidental. Please, if you copy my story, give me the credit. --------- Words from the author: I miss you. In chapter 6 of Justin's Story I told you I was busy... I didn't mean you couldn't still IM me. Please do. If I'm on line writing, from now on, I will use a different screen name. If I'm on as Justin69SK, it means I am on and ready for you, and your correspondence. Without you, there is no me. I love you all, and have been working on an address list, to keep you all updated on my escapades. If there are any literary geniuses out there, keep an eye open for my run on sentences please. Let me know if you find any, and help me learn how to write correctly. Also if you see any sentence frags, let me know. Little update, the thing with Pat is over. We got caught up in the moment. I am feeling a little lonely, so if you read this story and like it, send me an e-mail at Justin69SK@aol.com. I love and need you all. To my special friend EC, you know who you are. I appreciate all your help. Your friends are rite, you have love for people. It oozes out in all you say, and do. Give a hug to J, and A for me. To you Ryan, you really need to think about tacos at 7:00 am, I worry bout you! I miss you and can't wait until July. --------- Chapter 1 Horns blaring, tires screeching, loud shouts of anger, were the background sounds that could be heard. The smell of cooking beef, automobile exhaust fumes, and other unidentifiable odors, permeated my nostrils. My name is Jarrod Turner. I am twenty-seven, and work for one to the largest construction management firms, in the United States. I am a project manager, and am currently working in Manhattan. The firm landed a 3.4 million dollar renovation project on the Wheatley Center. The WC Building, as it is called around the office. I drew the project, I had just finished building the ball field for Eastern Connecticut State University. I had nothing else on my plate, so I got sent to Manhattan. I hate the city. I hate being away from home, and living out of a hotel room. I was walking down 42nd Street, near Eighth Avenue. The gay part of town. I was only a block or so from the WC, when my cell phone rang. I have a Nokia cell phone, and it displays the number of the incoming call. I always look before pressing the blue button in the middle, that allows me to take the call. It was Lisa Hartley, the Senior Estimator of the project. My heart beat was picking up. I knew what the call was going to be about. I had fired a subcontractor earlier, and it was not a pleasant task. The Electrical Contractor, LaFuler Electric, a union company, until this afternoon was the electrician on the job. I had sent them a three day letter, they had not manned the job appropriately. The WC project is a fast tracked job. We have a deadline, and a budget, both cast in stone. If we come in late, or off budget we will have to pay stiff penalties. Another reason Jim Parsons, the Vice President of Construction, my big boss has sent me. Jim has faith in my work, and my abilities. Lisa was jealous of the friendship Jim and I shared. After the third ring I picked up the call, let her wait a little. "Jarrod Turner." I said into the little black phone. "Jarrod, this is Lisa. What the hell is going on down there? I just got off the phone with Tim LaFuler, he is really fucking pissed. You seem to have left me out of the loop again! Its your style though." Lisa was her usual self, self control was never a word that could describe her actions. "When are you ever going to be part of the team?" She bantered into my ear from miles away. "Its good to hear from you too, Lisa." I said as calmly as I could. I knew that would push her button, God I hated this women. I really love most people, I just have very little time for self serving, ego maniacs like Lisa Hartley. "I called you Lisa, and forwarded you three faxes. You were in meetings, so I conferred with Jim Parsons about the three day letter, and he agreed to send it. I really am sorry if you didn't get the faxes." I always gave her the benefit of the doubt. Even though I knew Millie, our Office Administrator was the tops. Millie had placed the faxes, I sent to Lisa, within moments of receiving them at the home office, on Lisa's desk. Within an hour of receipt the faxes were placed in the hard file as well. In my mind I can picture Lisa fumbling around her desk. I can see her shuffling all the papers around looking for my faxes. I can actually see her face as she finds them. Her blonde hair, while cropped short, is always out of place. I can see her lips, and that bright red lipstick, frowning. I can picture all of this. I can see her green eyes, roll up towards the ceiling, as she pushes her chair from her desk to stand. "Millie just brought the faxes to me, all three of them." Lisa says into the phone, quietly. I know better. "I am really sorry you feel I left you out of the loop Lisa. You'll have to talk with Millie about getting the faxes to you, in a more timely fashion." I say this knowing full well Lisa is lying. That's why her voice level dropped, she stood up to close her office door. Lisa could not take the chance of Millie hearing her, we all depend on Millie. Millie can make or break us, all of us. "Well, where are we on the schedule? Do we have a replacement? This will be my ass if we blow this Wheatley deal." Lisa says with real concern in her voice. "Jim is supposed to be talking to Rose Electric about finishing. I understood he had already negotiated the deal with Arthur." I told Lisa. Arthur Rose is a real gentleman. He is a young black business owner, and knows how to play ball. He will get to the top someday, and I hope I am around to see it. Arthur, or Art as I affectionately call him, is a loyal sub contractor. He never forgets who butters his bread, and always sends me a Christmas present. Last year he sent me a bottle of Chivas Regal. I am a scotch drinker, I never knew how Art found that out. I have had a positive relationship with him on several of my projects, over the last six years. "Oh yes, Millie just brought me the work order. Damn that girl." Lisa lied. "It says his start date is tomorrow. I really need to talk to that girl. Well, got to run, talk to you soon Jarrod." Lisa was gone. I really hate that women. I am going to talk with Jim. He should give her a field assignment. We have been talking about how to get rid of her for sometime. Lisa is not the easiest person to work with. Lisa Hartley is very disorganized, and this reflects on our whole operation. She is constantly ruffling feathers. Sometimes I think she does it on purpose. I look at my phone, and think. I want to talk to Jim, but the timing isn't right. I need to wait until Art gets here, and the project is back on track. With any luck next week I can gain two days, without going into overtime. I continue my walk to the hotel, The Roosevelt. Hey the company pays, I stay in the best. Jim tells me he wants me a comfortable as possible. "You're my number one guy." Jim always tells me, and anyone else who listens. "Turner is my number one guy." Jim says to the others. Jim is a great guy. He's in his forties, is married with four children, and a wonderful wife. Jim and Betty Parsons have been married for twenty years. They are the last of a dying breed, still married to each other, and all the children belong to them. They are not a blended family. Jim is a little overweight and very self conscious about his waistline. He has long, longer than most forty year olds, brown and gray hair. He has a large nose, and a huge smile. When he looks at you with his warm brown eyes, you know he is sincere. I have known Jim Parsons for six years. We met in a bar, and he hired me the night he met me. I have worked for him ever since. He always gives me a huge Christmas bonus. Last Christmas, Jim and Betty threw a huge party at their home. He gave me a ten thousand dollar bonus. He told me he loved me like a son. I was so moved, it brought tears to my eyes. I reached the hotel and walked into the lobby. The lobby is huge. The hotel was built in gothic style. The lobby ceilings are thirty feet high. Gold inlays, and brass abound the trim. The carpet is thick and plush, a deep burgundy. The walls and furnishings are done in shades of pink. There are huge green plants, and trees lining the lobby. In the center of the lobby is a huge winding stair case, leading to a balcony. The front desk is polished gray granite. The cabinets, and shelves behind the desk are cherry. The window frames, and all other wood molding is also cherry. The architect was brilliant. Even though the entire hotel had been done over, it was refurbished in period. It has the same look now, as the time it was built. It is like you step back in time when you enter the lobby. I had had a rotten day. The call from Lisa Hartley did not set well. Her upcoming demise is part of another problem, Jim wants to bring me in when we get rid of her. Jim wants to promote me. He has promised me a huge salary increase. He wants me to take over international sights. Jim feels because I am single, I won't mind all the travel. He is partially right, but I can't refuse the team. More importantly I can't refuse my friend, and boss Jim Parsons. I decided I needed a scotch on the rocks. I walked into the hotel bar. It is dark in here, I thought as I walked to a bar stool. The bartender was a portly fellow. "Chivas on the rocks, with a twist." I said to the barman. He nodded. I nursed the drink. Sitting in the bar, in the solitude's of my thoughts. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a family come in. The family of three sat at a table near the windows. It is a father a mother, and their son. The son looks to be about fourteen, I think, to myself. I can see them talking and laughing. I begin to daydream. I can't seem to take my eyes away from this family. Especially the fourteen year old boy. This boy is a work of art by the Great Architect of the Universe, I think to myself. He has soft golden hair. A strong look about his face. He is quite developed, I can see his muscles rippling through his tight shirt. He has the darkest eyes I have seen. His eyes are set close together, above that cute flat nose. I can't imagine why I find him so fascinating. I just do, and can't seem to get enough of him. I drink in his looks, like my scotch, I nurse them both. I have to get to meet this young boy, he is drawing me in, with his looks of beauty. He is returning my gazes with his own. I nod my head as I am looking at him, and he returns my nod. I notice his parents have become deeply involved in their own tte--tte, and are looking into each others eyes. I pick up my scotch, and push the stool out from under me, as I stand. I turn to the barman, and he acknowledges me, I say to him, "I think I'll finish my drink in my room. Please put the bill on my tab, room 2235, Turner's the name." Hey I've been in many hotels, I know the routine. I casually saunter towards the door to the lobby, drink in hand. I cross the paramount of the hotel, its jewel, and head for the elevators. I push the shiny button that says twenty-two, and watch the little light come on, and the little arrow pointing up, lights up too. The heavy brass doors, trimmed with the gold inlay open, and as I walk in a little boy runs in the elevator from behind me. The solid doors close us in the box of metal, as we begin our journey up. I look down and notice it is my little friend from the bar. I can feel a stir in my loins, and a sense of guilt in my mind. I try not to look at this boy. I am afraid if I do, I'll embarrass myself. I can feel my organ stir, and a tingling sensation in my testicles. "Hey dude, wassup, saw you looking at me in the bar. Names Nathan, friends call me Nate. Nate Matthewson." My little friend says too me. Nate is chipper, and full of energy. "Jarrod Turner." I say and offer my right hand to him, as I look through his eyes, those dark brown eyes, and into his soul. This child was perfect in every way. I am a sucker for dark eyes. "I'm here with my Moms and Pops, where on vacation. We're staying here for the first three days, then we go on a Caribbean Cruise. I can't wait to get on the boat." Nate says with so much excitement, and sensitivity oozed from every pore of his youthful body. "We come from Greenwich Connecticut. Pops is a lobbyist, for the electric power utilities. He's always going to congress in Washington, DC. Moms is a lawyer. I go to Wilbraham Monson Academy in Massachusetts. Its a private school, and I am in the ninth grade." Nate told me his whole life story in three minutes flat. I found him to be a refreshing break from my tedious day. I found him to be a breath of fresh air, in my stale environment. "Nate you are the best thing that has happened to me all day." I look at this charming young lad, and smile at him while I tussle his hair. That soft blonde hair, the touch of his hair in my hand was sensual. I could feel myself becoming aroused. "My parents wanted to be alone, so I have to amuse myself. What are you doing, can I come with you?" This golden haired boy, looked up at me with his dark brown eyes, set close together, over that flat little nose of his. I couldn't believe his forwardness. "Well, Nate I was going to my room, and watch the movie Sixth Sense, on HBO. I heard it was a good movie. I've wanted to see it for a while." I said to my little friend. "Do you want company? I want to see Bruce Willis, he's gorgeous. Do you mind a little kid, tagging along? I'll be real good, and quiet." Nate said, as he looked up at me. He smiled, and has the cutest little dimples. His face is so angelic. "I can't resist you Nate. Your more than welcome to join me. Call the front desk and leave your parents my room number." I said, trying to sound like an adult. Trying to convince myself that the comment he had made about Willis was just an innocent remark. "Cool Grapes!" Nate said. The two of us walked out of the elevator, now on the twenty-second floor towards my room.