Date: Sun, 16 Jul 2006 20:26:15 -0700 (PDT)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: Nature Country 18

The story below is a work of fiction, set in the
format of reality. Any resemblance to real people is
entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to
accurately reflect upon persons in towns, cities, or
governmental areas, in 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. This is
fiction. Use protection in real life. `Got condom?'

"Nature Country" 18
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

At the `boys' end of the table, the conversational
piece seemed to hover over Denis Clark and Mark Barr.

"Didja really haff ta clean a toilet with a
toofbrush?" Seth asked, before inhaling a string of
spaghetti.

"Right," came Mark's reply.

As if a grown up, Philip states, "I would have never
believed a brother of mine would get stuck doing
that!"

Denis cautioned him, "Just don't get in trouble with
the law."

His statement seemed to put the conversation back in
Seth's ballpark.

"Oh, don't me and Luke know'd all `bout that!"

"Who's Luke?" Denis asks.

"Yeah, who's Luke?" one of the other boys, Tom
questions.

"The boy that tooked care o'me when we was travelin'."

"Oh?" Mark inquired further, "Stats?"

"What's that?"

Fifteen year old Eric, same age as Tom, filled him in,
"age, height, weight..."

Tom joined the grilling, "Yeah, what color hair did he
have?"

With so many questions being shot at him, Seth did his
best to answer.

"I dunno. He's taller den me."

"No, dah," Mark replied.

Not really understanding what Mark meant by that, Seth
skipped over it, going on, "And he's a lot older. He's
got brown hair like... like `his'!"

In the middle of a sentence, Chad stops, upon being in
the direct line of fire of Seth's pointing finger.

"Chad's?" Philip asks.

"Yup. Same color hair."

Chad's attention still keyed on Seth, he wonders what
this is all about.

Before he can gain any information, Seth throws out
the question to Chad, "Do you got the same color hair
down here?"

"Whaaa?" Chad half laughs, as he inquires.

Sitting on either side of Seth, Aidan and Diego look
where Seth is pointing, down into Seth's lap. In the
same manner, Chad looks down at his own crotch.

Max whispers, "What'sa matter Chad? Never see your own
pubes?"

"Of course I've seen my own pubes. I see them everyday
when I shower!"

However, it's Matty that gives the desertation, "Yeah,
it's the same color, except when wet."

"You seen'em too?" Seth asks Matty.

"Well sure. We live together, just like your dads."

"I never thought about it!"

Seth meant the part about two guys living together. It
never dawned on the kid that everyday they see each
other, at least three or four times, without any
clothes on.

Then Seth confesses, "I seen Luke down there lotsa
times. `Specially when the cops did sex stuff to him."

Even Chad and Matty knew the conversation had evolved
into a touchy subject. As one of the dad's, whom sat
around a circular table a few feet from them, Chad
took on the role.

"Ah, I think we better change the subject."

All too often, when either of the dads said this, the
boys knew they had crossed the stream, onto forbidden
ground. Perhaps the `sex stuff' came and went, right
over the younger ones' heads, but for the two
seventeen year olds, Dennis and Mark, a conglomeration
of separate words, `cops', `did', `sex', `stuff', made
their cocks twitch.

"What did they do to him?" Denis grinned, provoking
Seth.

"I said that's enough!" Chad raised his voice, as if
his father, Barry, had spoken.

In fact, Barry yelled across the aisle, "Everything
alright over there, boys?"

"Everything's fine, dad," Chad forced a smile.

After that, everything was fine. The talk branched off
to Tom and Eric talking about their weekend bike hike
and the squirts talking about model dinosaurs. For
Denis and Mark, they held their own little chat, much
more subdued between the two. However, their
conversation wasn't on Luke Brumwell.

"So, are we going to call that number we found?" Mark
asks.

"Would be cool, just to see," his seventeen year old
counterpart replied.

"I wonder if the guy is a good cocksucker?"

"I wonder if the guy is a guy!"

"Yeah, right," Mark agreed, then went on to say, "or
maybe the telephone number isn't good?"

Denis takes the liberty of saying, "Who would write a
message like that on the inside of a jon wall, if it
wasn't a real telephone number?"

"You got a point there. Hey, what if it's not a guy
who's gay?"

"It says he sucks cock. He's gotta be gay, dah!"

"Do you think his real name is really Justin?"

"Don't know Mark. If the guy wanted to suck cock, why
wouldn't he use his real name?"

"I guess you're right, Denis. So, we going to call
him?"

"If you want to."

"Are either of us going to rest until we find out?"

Mark knew the score and wasn't too far off the trail,
when it came to what Denis thought.

"What happens if he wants to suck our cocks?"

"I dunno."

"How about we meet him after school tomorrow?"

Mark liked the idea, as Denis slowly set it up.

"And we'll call him tonight after everybody's asleep."

"Good idea. We can use the connection that's in our
dad's workshop, so nobody hears us. But you know what
Denis?"

"What?"

"I'm a little scared."

"Don't be. If anytime we don't like it, we just hang
up on the guy."

"Yeah, that's right," Mark began to rest easier.

Meanwhile, at the twenty-something end of the table,
"You handled that really well, I thought, Preppy,"
Matty commented about the subject matter that began to
turn `ugly'.

"Eh, it was nothin'. My dad's used to breaking up
fights with my brothers. I watched and said the same
thing. No big deal."

Max inquires, "I'm sure your halo fell off a couple of
times, Chad."

"Oh know. I was the perfect son!"

Matty and Max pretended to choke on their food, taking
a swig of their beers.

"Well, look who just walked in the door!"

Max replied to Chad's comment, "Officer Berk Hewsen."

"I think Max is ready to come out of his shell," Matty
said to Chad, on the sly.

To help things along, Chad got up from his chair and
yelled, "Hey Birdy... send him over here!"

"Chad Barr, what do you think you're doing?" Max
questions him. "I told you I'm not..."

Eyeing up Chad's crotch, just because it's `there', in
front of his face, he comments to Max, "You have ten
seconds to `get over it', Max!"

As if a waiter himself, at Birdy's Cafe, Chad orders
Matty to move his chair around the table. Michael Bird
helps, arranging another place setting, as Chad grabs
a chair.

"Oh, don't fuss for me," Berk humbly tells them.

"It's no problem. Really," Chad remarks.

Before long, Berk's ass is closely parked right next
to Max.

"I'm..." Max offers his hand.

"Max Masterson, isn't it?"

That zoomed Max, the twenty-six year old Turk,
remembering his name.

Getting nervous, Max says, "And you're Officer Berk
Hewsen!"

He felt like such a dork, but Berk never made it sound
like it.

"You can drop the official manner when I'm out of
uniform."

Max's eyes dropped from Berk's face, traveling from
east to west, scanning the white shirt.

"Nice shirt, too." Then with a bit of nervousness,
"the color looks good on you, Berk."

Matty and Chad giggled, knowing the stress `Cool Max'
was under.

Then, comparing the white shirt to his arm, Berk asks
Max, "I hope you do not mind that I am..."

Lost for words, the two stare at the white linen,
contrasting the Turk's creamy white skin tone.

"Oh no," Max finally caught on, before Berk could
assemble his meaning, "I love.. I mean like all
peoples. There's not a bigoted bone in my body!"

Chad and Matty, watching it all unfold, giggled to
themselves.

Matty says to Chad, "Poor Max!"

"Max? It's Berk I'm feeling sorry for!" Chad replies.

Lifting his eyes from Berk's arm, Max could see
through the not quite transparent shirt. Already he
could sense his jeans tightening around the crotch
seams and he had just noticed the dark nips that
pushed their way against the white and some similtude
of dark hair on Berk's chest, a light dusting visible
at the V-neck collar, where two unfastened buttons lay
to the side.

"What would you like to eat?"

If Max thought this feeling had been one-sided, he was
dreaming. Berk looked at the tee-shirted twenty-one
year old, with starving intentions. However, it wasn't
part of himself to speak of wants and desires, in
public.

"Eat you say?"

"Um, yeah. Are you hungry?"

Matty quietly says to Chad, "Hmm, I wonder...."

"Give the guy a chance?"

"It's not like I think he's stalking Max or anything,
Preppy."

"Hmm... might not be such a bad idea."

It earned Chad a slap in the arm, but in reality,
Matty thought it a good plot, as well.

"I have not eaten since breakfast."

"You went all day without a bite to eat, Berk?"

"No. I usually only eat two meals a day."

"No wonder you're so skinny."

Berk was no dum bunny. He knew Max had noticed, but
Berk couldn't be awarded a `not guilty' plea either,
committing the crime of scanning Max's form, as well.

"I feel like maybe eating sausage?"

"How do you mean that?" Max joked.

Berk made out like he didn't get it, but in reality he
wondered what hid under the table, in Max's lap. At
the same time, Max's cock was twitching like a quaking
San Andreas. Off the scale, he had moments ago
diverted it down his pants leg. Now he wondered how
well Berk could handle his sausage!

"Heeeeey guys!"

As soon as Jim Faulkner and Conner Matthews made
landfall at Birdy's, they spotted their high school
buds, Denis Clark and Mark Barr. Standing, the two
greeted the entering teens, high-fiving them.

"What's doin', dudes?" Denis asked.

Aidan makes fun of them, asking Philip, "What's doin',
dudes?"

Catching on immediately to his sarcasm, Philip lifts
his hand up, Aidan retrieving it midair, for a
high-five. This incites Diego and Seth, becoming two
little jokers, as well.

"Why don't you guys come sit with us?"

Turning to Chad, Denis asks, "Okay if we do,
dad-Chad?"

Matty replies, "Yeah, do us the favor and get lost!"

Mark replies, "Thanks Matty, but we'll do ourselves a
favor, instead and lose you!"

Maury and Ricardo had already been seated at a square
table for four, when Denis and Mark set their full
plates on one side.

"See how twinks can rearrange your life?" Maury
states, in jest.

Michael Bird has always treated his guests with the
utmost respect, being there in the nick of time to
solve all and any problems. Attuned to Maury's needs,
he grabbed a table and heaved it over to match up with
the square one.

"Here, let me help," Ricardo smiled at Michael.

"Thanks, but I have it."

Ricardo smiled again, as Michael flashed his
britey-whities. Maury took notice, but didn't say
anything - yet.

"I got a better idea," Maury says, as the table edges
are joined.

"Huh?" more than one of the guys, including Michael
replies.

"Why don't you four twinks gather around a table of
your own?"

"It's okay Maury?" Conner inquires.

"Sure."

Next they hear a quartet of `cools'!

Michael presents the two with menus, quickly whisking
himself over to the `twink table', taking their orders
for four different pizza toppings, even though Denis
and Mark have full pasta bowls.

"I'll take these and wrap them for you," Michael
suggests, with Denis and Mark going along with the
excellent idea.

"Very accomodating man," Maury opens with.

"Yes. I suppose he has to be, being the businessman he
is."

"True," Maury alludes to, adding, "but I've known
Michael for a long time. He's a real nice guy."

"Oh? How well do you know him?"

Maury had stated what he knew, to disuade any motives
Ricardo might have. He wasn't quite prepared to make
an answer to what sounded like accusations, coming
from the Latino next to him. However, he didn't want
to make it sound like such a `sexual' response, as
Ricardo's questioning inferred.

"Oh, for years. Way back when I started teaching at
WRCC."

"When was that, Maury?"

"Let me see now."

Looking at the picture of the moose drinking from a
river, Maury rubbed his stubbly chin.

"I think it has to be about...."

Then Maury makes a startling discovery.

"Wow! How time flies. I'll be starting on my tenth
year there, this September!"

"Nice," Ricardo tells him, sharing in his glee. "We'll
have to celebrate, when the time comes."

Putting all his reservations aside, Maury takes
Ricardo's hand in his.

"I like the sound of that, Ricardo."

"Me too. I mean. Well, no sense me beating around the
bush here, Maury. I like you. A lot."

Maury returned the feeling, leaving out the words.
Instead, his lips moving in Ricardo's direction, clued
him to the fact that the same feelings existed.

"Hey, this is a family establishment, I'll have you
know!"

Michael Birdy interrupted them, smiling. After setting
two wine flutes on the table, he filled each one.

"Champaygne?" Maury questioned.

"Yeah," Michael replied, adding, "call it fate or
whatever, but I have a lucky feeling about this guy
sitting next to you here, Maury."

Feeling guilty now, Maury smiled, saying, "You're one
in a million, Birdy."

"Yeah okay. Say, Maury, think you can fix me up with
any of the guys over at WRCC?" Then he filled Ricardo
in, "You know Maury's a matchmaker?"

"Oh? Is that so?"

"Yeah. Usually it's inviting young jocks to his house
for the purpose of hooking them up."

"Birdy?"

"Yeah, Maury?"

"Shut up?"

"Yeah, sure. Enjoy the champaygne."

After Michael Birdy vamoosed, Ricardo became
talkative.

"So, what's this matchmaking thing all about?"

"Nothing. Forget he mentioned it."

"Sure. If you don't want to talk about it. Fine with
me. I won't say another thing about it."

The next two minutes of silence, gave Maury a feeling
of `deja vu'. He got the same treatment when
confronted by Jim and Conner, on the subject.

"Okay. What do you want to know?"

"About this matchmaking business."

"First of all, it's not a business. I don't get paid
for doing it."

"I suppose I chose my words poorly. What I meant
is..."

"You want to know how I got started in all this?"

With reservations, Ricardo replies, "Only if you want
to share it?"

Ricardo's light brown hand contrasted with Maury's
white skin, as he lay his palm over the top of his
smooth skin.

"Nah, I don't mind talking about it."

%

Back at West Richlan Presbyterian Church, Justin
Beanhacker drifted off, with pencil in hand. His rude
awakening came when his arm slipped off the ledge and
fell onto B flat.

"Oh!" he jumped up, as the piano note sounded.

Looking at his watch, he noticed the big hand on the
twelve, announcing a silent eight o'clock.

"Still at it, Justin?"

"Oh hi Pastor Jack."

"You've worked almost every night here, at church.
Don't you have a social life?"

Other than Terrence Beethoven, Steve Clark and Barry
Barr, not many others knew of Pastor Jack Mackenzie's
secret. As with Justin Beanhacker, the same had been
true, except in his case, only Justin knew, or so he
thought.

"Um, music has been my social life, as long as I can
remember."

`What a shame', Pastor Jack thought, but didn't say,
scanning over the nineteen year old choir director.

"I suppose, as a result of your many years of devotion
to your musical skills, we at West Richlan Pres, have
the honor of enjoying your talents."

"Well yes, but like I said before, I'm happy that the
music board decided on hiring me. It helps with the
tuition, plus pay for my dorm room."

Changing the subject, Pastor Jack asks, "So, how's
your song coming along?"

Unintentionally, Justin corrects him, "The `work' is
coming along rather nicely, thanks."

By the formation of Justin's words, plus the pitch of
his voice, Pastor Jack discovers the criticism.

Smiling, he replies, "Yes, your `work'. Someday I'll
get it in my mind to call it by what it is. I forget
that classical music is a whole different world than
`Hips Don't Lie'!"

"Hips what?"

"Never mind, Justin. I've got to stop listening to
that disco station. It's starting to affect my mind!"

Letting out a laugh, Pastor Jack receives a smile from
Justin.

"Well, I had better get going on my way. I've got a
funeral tomorrow and..."

"Oh? The party didn't request a service?"

"No. Sorry, Justin. I know you could use the money,
but the family wanted something quiet, at the grave."

"That's okay. I understand. Everybody has their own
way of wanting to do things."

"Um, bet you had better get on your way, as well."

"Sure. I just want to finish up this last measure. I
have a little snag and figured out that the C sharp
wasn't working out as well as.... well never mind."

Pastor Jack giggled, saying, "That's one thing, at the
seminary that I didn't pay much attention to."

"Oh, but you have a wonderful singing voice and..."

Suddenly Justin realized he wasn't talking about
music, in general. His comments came from viewing the
handsome looks of the thirty-one year old pastor.
Justin stopped shy of finishing his sentence.

"And?" Pastor Jack questioned him.

"Nothing. I mean you have a lovely tenor voice."

"Why thank you Justin. Now I'd better be on my way."

"Good night," Justin called after him.

As he walked across the choir room, Pastor Jack
wondered about Justin. He's acted kind of straight,
but right now he seemed to either break out of his
acting, or fall into being the persona he tried to
cover up.

After erasing the C sharp, he touched the piano keys,
trying different combinations. None seemed to fit the
soprano part, striking a good balance of harmony with
the alto, tenor and bass parts.

"Shit!" he cursed out loud, throwing the pencil down.

The pencil made tinging sounds, as it fell into the
piano, against the strings, like that of a dulled harp
sound. To anyone, if another being had been in
attendance, it would show that Justin had been angry
with himself.

%

"Time to go guys. School tomorrow!"

>From the youngest, to the oldest mid teen came the
same groan. A great time was being had by all, at
Birdy's Cafe. One thing that struck Barry as `cute',
was when Diego went to get out of his seat, Seth
jumped up and helped pull his chair out from the
table.

"Will you look at that?" Barry tapped Steve on the
shoulder.

"Yeah. It's almost as if the kid was brought up in
royalty!"

Acknowledging Steve's comment, Barry replies, "Yeah.
Maybe it'll rub off if he stays around long enough."

"Stays around? What do you know that I don't know?"
Steve inquires.

"Nothing in particular. However, there's not much we
know about either of the boys and as the detectives
unravel the mystery of where Seth and what's his
name?" Barry snaps his fingers.

"Luke."

"Right. Until they discover about Luke and Seth's
past, well I just don't think we all should be so
settled about Seth and him sticking around."

"So, you think Seth might be hiding something?"

"I don't know what to think, Steve."

"You're right. Just because the kid says his parents
are dead, not that he's lying, well..."

As Birdy handed Steve the check, he shutup.

Then he asked, "Hey, wait a minute. Where did this
pizza come from?"

>From over his shoulder, comes a face.

"Oh, I think that belongs on `my' bill."

"Oops. Sorry," Michael Birdy replies, scooping the
paper out of Steve's hand.

"I know we've met someplace," Steve replies to the
WRCC professor.

"At the hospital, I believe, when you popped in to
visit your friend."

Maury's companion, Ricardo fills them in, "Yes, Maury
had been a roommate of Callan O'Meara."

"Oh yes. That's where," Steve replies, pointing a
figure at Maury.

Barry approaches the cashier.

"All set with the bill, Steve?"

"Um, no. Slight problem."

"Oh?"

"Birdy is fixing it. Say, Barry, this is..."

Steve, never properly introduced, lets his words fade
out.

"Hi, Maury Passat," he extends a hand to Barry. Then
he alludes to something untentional, but nice sounding
to Ricardo's ears, "and this is my partner, Ricardo
Montez."

The four go about greeting each other with names and
handshakes.

"See you again, Maury... Ricardo," Steve and Beary
relay their message, after being swamped by their
children.

"Nice to see you again," Maury tells Callan.

"Um, yeah," Callan replies, fuzzy on where they met.

Outside of Birdy's, Diego and Seth pair off, walking
towards the parking lot.

"Do we know him?" Callan questions his partner.

"From the hospital. Your roommate?"

"Oh yeah." Then giggling, he quips, "Wild guy."

"Oh? What makes you say that?"

"Well, I know he probably thought I was in and out
part of the time, but when I was conscious I kind
of... well..."

"Kind of what?" Alonzo presses for info.

"The two teens that came to visit. He was `playing
around' with them."

"Playing around?"

Before Callan could divulge his eyewitness account,
they had reached the car, unlocking it for Diego and
their new charge.
Heading out of the parking lot, they followed Barry
and Steve, who kept a short distance behind Matty's
4x4. Heading up Van Giesen Blvd., the entourage turned
left onto Bridge's Lane. Matty peeled off, to the
right, at the street they lived on, Berkshire Terrace.
Alonzo turned onto Balsam Road, leaving leaving the
Clark-Barr van on it's on, before turning on to Desert
View Terrace.

"Gosh darn it!"

"Don't let it get to you Steve."

"I know Barry, but how can they name a street after a
desert, with our house being up here in the middle of
a forest?"

"Steve, haven't we learned, you above all, not to try
to figure out why Bernice does things?"

"Yeah. So?"

"So, maybe she thought it was a pretty name."

"Desert View? Where's the desert to view?"

Steve waves his hand, to point out the view beyond the
dash and side windows.

Rolling his eyes, Barry throws Steve off target, by
quietly asking, "Still up for that rim job?"

Suddenly Steve's mind goes blank.

%

18 Continued....

Copyright 2006  T. Chase McPhee
This story may not be sold or made part of any
collection without prior written permission.