Date: Sun, 8 Oct 2006 13:22:22 -0700 (PDT)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: NATURE COUNTRY 27

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.

NATURE COUNTRY 27
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"Andy, are you okay?"

"Um, I'm still breathing."

"Sorry about the rush back here. Hey! Who's that?"
Matty asks.

"Hee heee... um, Bene's son."

Matty had a questioning look on his face.

"Benevuto? Bread delivery guy?"

"Oh yes! I can't keep track of Chad changing
ditributors."

"I hope you don't mind, I kind of `enlisted' him."

Matty took a second look, across the underskirting of
the deli department, towards the bakery area.

"Sorry for not asking or telling you or Chad."

Before Matty could think of how to handle this, Andy
let rip a hollar.

"Hey, Marco, come over here a second. Got somebody I
want you to meet."

In the meantime,  Chad steps into the deli department,
butt up against the bakery.

"One second, please."

"Polite, at least."

"Polite?" Chad asks Matty, followed by, "Who the hell
is that?"

Matty coolly answers, "Andy's `helper'?"

"What do you mean helper? Where'd he come from?"

"I'm supposing it's one of Benevuto's kid."

"Our bread man?"

"Yeah," Andy answers, taking over for Matty.

"Which one?"

"I dunno. One of the nine or ten."

"Um, how did he get in `our' bakery?"

Matty dives back in, "I don't know the whole story,
but Andy says there was a delivery and he
`commandeered'... I guess it's Marco?"

"Marco? Hmm... not that I remember all his kids names,
but don't recall that one!"

When Chad had switched delivery men, he inquired about
the Italian bread man's reputation, asking sordid
questions. Soon, it led into the private sector, Bene,
short nick, derived from the surname. It led to a full
blown family history, including how many kids, ages,
where they are in life, etc.

"Um, hello. Are you the managers?" Marco shyly
inquired, wiping his hands on his almost white apron.

Most likely Andy knew he went out on a limb, by the
way he smiled, with the offering up of the standing
next to him.

"This is Marco, Bene's son," Andy offered up.

"Nice to meet you."

Chad grinned, accepting the young guy's hand,
seemingly not much younger than himself.

"Same here," as Marco set out to shake Matty's hand.

"I wanted to let you know that even though it got kind
of crazy here, I enjoyed working for you this
morning."

"Is that so?"

As usual, Matty took a second fiddle to Chad, as he
made a subtle reply to Marco's comment. Andy stood
there, in the wings.

"So, how old are you, might I ask?"

"Seventeen," he answered Chad, "but tomorrow's my
birthday. So, I'm almost eighteen."

"Happy birthday. Um, will you excuse us a moment,
Marco?"

"Sure. I've gotta scrub down the case."

"Um, Marco?" Chad interrupted.

"Yes?"

Concerned about an underaged kid, working at the
store, Chad had it in mind to ask Marco to leave, but
the look on his adorable face, plus the initiative to
accomplish one of the toughest jobs, cleanup, let him
be.

"Never mind."

"Okay. Thanks, Mr. Barr."

"Andy,..."

"I know what you're going to say Chad, but it was like
one of those spur-of-the-moment decisions."

"Yes, Andy, but..."

"I know. The kid's seventeen, but Bene's other son was
with him and the temptation, what with the customer's
on line... it was like Grand Central Station in here!"

Chad could relate to that, `being there' numerous
times. Matty speculated.

"I realize that Andy. Up front was no different,
however...."

"Plus, Bene kind of hinted that his son was looking
for a summer job and I put two and two together
and..."

Chad stuck up his hands, the his right hand flat,
topping the straight up and down left.

"Time out, Andy."

"I guess I'm in deep shit, huh?"

"Not too deep," Chad smiled.

Walking within the boundaries of the meat department,
Chad faces the bakery department. He notices Marco's
cute little ass poking out, from leaning over the
inside of the bakery display case, scrubbing away.

With his hand on Andy's shoulder, he says, "Look,
Andy, it might not of been half as bad if he was of
age."

"Yeah, I thought of that, but not til it was too
late."

"Andy, you're one of our most... no, strike that.
Other than the moron I'm partnered with," they
chuckled, "you're the most valuable player we have
here."

Andy noticed the intent, Chad looking beyond him.

"Good worker, isn't he?"

Chad smiled. He knew that Andy knew.

"Yeah. Energetic, huh?"

"He's a very clean kid. I guess he follows after the
old man."

"Well, in the food service business one has to be."

"So, what do you think, Chad?"

"About what?"

"Keeping Marco on?"

"Oh yeah.. Um, well..."

Chad stuck his finger under his collar, looking at the
Italian teen, as if to vent some pent up body steam.

"I think he could work out. What's your opinion,
Andy?"

"He's a hustler and he knows the business."

"Did you get to chat with him much?"

"A little. You know. Small talk, as I had to run over,
grab a roll for a sub."

"Was he able to maintain a steady flow?"

Chad had nobody to blame but himself, thinking of the
dark-skinned seventeen year old, now standing, trying
to catch his breath, from working vigorously at
sprucing up the bakery casing. Of course, he wondered
what lurked underneath the white apron.

"He kept a steady line, if you know what I mean."

"Huh?"

"Marco. His line was pretty long, but he kept up with
the customers order. I mean, my line was as long as
his. Seems like they went from his line, to mine and
vice versa."

Chad didn't hear everything Andy said.

"So?"

"Um, sounds good."

Andy was no fool. He rolled his eyes, as he saw Chad's
attention wasn't drawn to him, the whole conversation,
except maybe once.

"So, you going to keep him?"

There's nothing Chad wanted more.

"Um, sure, but do me a favor?"

"I know. No more spur of the moment hiring."

"That too, but have Marco fill out an application."

"Um, are you going to pay him for the day?"

Chad stood there, hands on his hips, looking Marco
over, as he swept the floor.

"Of course. You don't think we hire slave labor here,
do you?"

"Hee heee... sometimes it feels like it!"

"I'm going to forget you said that, Andy!"

"I didn't mean anything by it."

"I know. Hmmm... Okay, do this. We'll," Putting it in
the plural sense, since Andy has instigated the whole
incident, "do this. Haven Marco fill out an
application, then..."

"Is he hired?"

"Of course."

Andy yells over, "Hey Marco," raising his fist,
"you're in kid!"

"Hell yeah!"

Dashing across the floor, Marco takes Chad's hand in
his, robustly offering, "Thanks so much Mr. Barr. You
won't regret this!"

Chad cracled a grin, but it wasn't only Marco's glee
he was feeling, coursing over his body.

Andy says to him, "You've got to fill out an
application."

"No sweat. I'll do it right... oh excuse me a sec."

"Efficient," Chad replied to Andy, as faced the last
customer of the day.

"Any idea why it was blazing busy in here, Chad?"

"Most likely graduation parties, plus I think we're in
for some rain this week."

"Oh yeah. Folks usually get hyped up over stuff like
that, with the electric kicking off."

"Which reminds me, I better check the battery
inventory."

"That's okay. I'll do it before I leave Chad."

"Okay. Thanks Andy."

That's something Chad liked about Andy. He was always
willing to step out from behind the meat and bakery
counters and help out elsewhere.

"Um, Mr. Barr, can I interrupt you for a moment?"

"Sure John. What's up?"

Chad could kind of guess what was `up'.

"I wanted to.... um sort of tell you something that
happened earlier today."

As Chad led the way down the back corridor of the
store, John Torkelson followed Chad, trying to keep up
their conversation.

"I know I was wrong Mr. Barr. I hope you're not going
to fire me."

"Look, John," Chad finally confronted him, "What's
done, is past. Did you talk with Mr. Roberts?" Chad
referred to Zach.

"Yes."

"And what did he say?"

"That I still had my job."

"Then it's as simple as that. He has a clearer picture
of all this and I'm sure if he had reason, he would
let you go."

"Thanks for being understanding, Mr. Barr. I won't let
you down again."

"Thanks for letting me know, John."

After John left, Chad still had his image in his mind.
He smiled, thinking of how cute he was, so young and
vulnerable to suggestion. What young, gay man hasn't
been tempted, in some situations, later regretting
their actions. He thought back to high school, in New
Jersey and the one incident, of walking in the
lockerroom jon, one of his football buds, with his
cock up the Coach's ass!

"How did things work out, Preppy?"

"Not bad. What a day though!"

"Your telling me! It's like they came out of the
woodwork." Then Matty alluded to, being sarcastic, "I
like how Zach called `us' in on `our' day off, goes
out for a coffee break and doesn't come back?"

Chad smiled.

"What?"

"Sorry, I didn't mention it earlier, but I gave him
the day off. I hope you're not mad at me?"

Matty walked over, behind Chad, whom sat at his desk.
He place both hands on his shoulders, giving him a
light massage.

"Nah. If I had to spend my day off at work, I'm glad
you could be with me."

"I know what you mean. So many times I've been here by
myself and had wished for your presence... and.. it's
not all the time I can come back here, work and get a
hot massage!"

Knowing they didn't go for all that lovey-dovey stuff
at work, trying to uphold some sensible code of
ethics, Matty leans down and kisses the top of Chad's
head.

"I didn't use conditioner this morning!"

"Is that all you have to think about?"

Matty's hands lost their grip.

"Just kidding. Get those hands back here!"

Laughing, Matty fulfilled Chad's request. Then, they
both looked over the screen on the monitor.

"Sales look great."

"Should be, after I spent six hours on the cash
register!"

"Yeah? You're lucky."

"Oh? How does that go?" Chad inquires.

Cupping his hands over his mouth, like a bullhorn,
Matty bellows out, "Spill in aisle 4! Clean up in
aisle 8!"

Laughing, Chad asks, "What was it this time?"

"The usual worst, bottle of spaghetti sauce some
little kid decided to use for a bowling ball!"

"I'm sure he didn't do it on purpose."

"No. His mother offered to pay for it. I'm sure the
kid got hell."

"I don't know. Some get away with murder."

"And the other?"

"Actually a pleasure to clean up."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. College frat. I got into conversation with
him."

"Want to get to the point?"

Chad figured, since he lusted over Marco, whatever
Matty was going to say, plus what he said already,
evened out their experiences.

"Greg said he...."

"Greg? My, didn't you get far?"

It earned Chad a friendly little swat-beside-the-head!

"Not far enough, mind you! Anyway, Greg blamed busting
the box of cereal open, from starting to lift weights
this week. Can you imagine anything so stoopid?"

"Depends on what he looked like. I could imagine a lot
of things!"

"Like watching Marco, as busy as a little bee, behind
the bakery counter?"

"Huh?"

"Sorry. Didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I noticed how
you weren't paying close attention everything Andy
said?"

"And I thought you went up front to check up on the
lines?"

"I did."

"Okay, so I was checking him out."

Chad waited, as he swiveled around in his chair.

"What?"

"Rebuttal? Remarks? You have the floor."

Slapping Chad's legs together, Matty broke their
agreement of refraining from letting personal feelings
get in the way of their professional status, at the
store. Sitting, his ass sat on both of Chad's knees.

"I don't want the floor!"

Leaning forwards, his arms slacked up, over Chad's
shoulders, as he leaned in for a sweet kiss.

%

"Well, look what the cat dragged in!"

Behind Conner, Jim stood, his shirt looked like it
went through the war, buttoned up so that two buttons
remained between the collar and the next buttoned
button.

"You should've have been there Maury!"

Ricardo, sitting at the kitchen counter, remarks, "He
had better things to do!"

Standing there, right in front of Ricardo, Jim reaches
out and takes a sip of the poured coffee.

"Get your lips offa there! How do I know they haven't
been contaminated?"

They laughed at the comment, one telling the other.

Maury, taking the edge of Jim's shirt between his
fingers, remarks, "Don't ask me to lend you anymore
shirts!"

Getting his dig in, Jim replies, "Why not? My `baggy'
shirt was the hit of the party!"

Backing off, Jim earned `the finger' from Maury.

But his Conner, as if carrying on a separate
conversation, enlightens Ricardo straight, "Um,
remember. He's a top? Like he doesn't do that type of
thing?"

Maury sets his dig, "So that mean you had protein
samples, Connor?"

"Um, a few."

"And you?" Maury questions Jim.

"I took a coulpa asses, why?"

"I hope you boys didn't party-it-up so much that you
forgot about protection?"

"We did it safely," Jim assured him.

"Okay. That's all I'm asking."

"Listen, I've gotta hit the shower..."

Maury goofed off on Jim, getting `the finger', revenge
gesture, as the two soon-to-be high school graduates
left the room.

"They're such cool guys."

"Yeah. I'm really glad I inherited them."

"Inherit, Maury?"

"Yeah. I mean, since they moved in, Connor's mom has
become so attached to my Aunt Maria, they don't see
her but a coupla of times a week."

"I'm sure it has to do with them wanting their privacy
and the boys having theirs."

"And what about us, Ricardo?"

"Privacy? I think it's fine the boys come and go as
they please. I mean, even if they catch us in the
buff, so what?"

"That's good to know, but I was wondering more like
Ron?"

"Do you like him?"

"Do you?" Maury inquired.

"I asked you first."

"I asked you second."

Maury won out.

"Yeah, I think he's cute, he's a nice guy, very smart.
You?"

"I find him sort of attractive."

"Maury, cut the crap. The guy's drop-dead-gorgeous and
you know it!"

Like a little boy, being shamed, Maury smiled.

"Yeah, okay, but so are you."

Ricardo didn't have any ammunition, to fire back with.

"Plus, he loves servicing me."

"So do I. But I liked it when he got oral on me too."

"Aha!"

"What?" Ricardo questioned Maury's motive.

"I'm not the only one enjoying the benefits of my
colleague?"

"Maury, why don't you just come out and say what's on
your mind instead of beating around the bush? We're
adults here, not some little kids."

"Okay. Um, what would you say if Ron sort of moved in
with us?"

"I think it might be cool."

"You're kidding?" Maury asked, as if he had to hear it
twice.

"No. I think I made it plain and clear, after we first
met that I can be more open; promiscuous."

"That's the impression I got."

"So, sure. I have no objections, just as long as get
my fair share!"

"Hmm... I think I feel like sharing now!"

"Why don't we head out by the poolhouse?"

%

"Uhhhhhhhh!"

When one of the servants came down the stairs, to
fetch a bottle of wine, he thought his imagination
kicked in, with the sight before him. After running
back up the stairs, it was a matter of ten minutes,
before ambulances, police and detecives collected at
the front of the well-to-do home. From the house,
three bodies lay on guernies, fitted into ambulances.

"What do you think happened here?" Officer Riley
Sanchez asked Berk.

"I cannot say for sure, but it look like young boy is
getting beaten. See the marks?"

"Bastard!" Is the only credit Riley could award the
father. "What about the other boy?"

"He may be first."

"Taking the beating?"

"Yes," the detective replied.

"But there wasn't any restraints. Why didn't the older
one resist right away?"

"Sometimes children get `programmed'. They learn to
follow parents."

"Hmm, deep. So, what you are telling me that the older
MIller boy allowed his father to beat him?"

"I believe the love was strong enough," Berk spoke, as
if a child psychologist.

"Love? Hell, the first time my old man tried to use a
strap on me, was he ever damn sorry!"

The twenty-six year old police detective stood there,
wondering what Riley's rebuttal entailed, but the
conversation died.

"If you ever want to talk, I can listen good?"

"Nah. That's okay. It was a long time ago. Doesn't
matter."

However, the incident did do a quick replay, in Riley
Sanchez's mind. The Latino pictured his life, at
seventeen years old, marching out to the barn,
stripping off his shirt, ready himself for a beating.
Then, as the first stroke of his father's belt, over
his shoulders occured, he stepped out of the way. He
did take one lash over the shoulder, but it had been
the only part of the disciplining he received that
day, as, on the second strike, he grabbed the strap,
wrapped it around his arm and reeled his father in,
like a fish. It had been the same day he packed his
things and headed out on the road, starting a new
life. One that led him to West Richlan and the police
force.

"Until we can communicate with the boys, we cannot
draw any conclusions."

Looking at the wine stain, the intermixed blood, Riley
was rooting for the kids.

%

"That day sure sped by quick!"

"Right Steve. The older we get, the faster time shoots
by us."

Catching his partner at the kitchen door, readying to
enter, Steve did a quick eye-check. Not seeing a soul
around, he cupped his personal bear's head in his hand
and pressed his face in.

"Hmmmm," Barry smiled. "Do anymore of that and it
could drive me into some `special fun' tonight?"

"Hell yeah!"

As a little kid, getting that `special treat', Steve
knew what extracurricular fun the two could enjoy,
connecting with the belt. Barry just rolled his eyes,
still a smile on his face, as he pushed the kitchen
door open.

"Whatcha whipping up here?"

"Oh hi Barry. Um, I thought thought the kids might
like a simple meal of hamburgers, hot dogs and fries."

"Getting a jump on the summer are we?" Steve asks,
taking a freshly fried french fry and popping it in
his mouth.

"Oooh that's hot!"

Steve immediately spat it out into his hand, passing
it back and forth, like a hot potato.

"Oh by the way, I have a favor to ask?"

"What's up?"

Max proceeds, "Actually, the favor comes from
Terrence."

Barry, the alpha half of the partnership, asks, "What
does Beethoven want this time?"

He didn't render it in a malicious fashion. More
sarcastic. Terrence Beethoven, whether acting as the
head of the youth group at church, or heading up the
football team of the high school, always found a way
of getting the little extras, plus involving people,
where the person chosen, didn't have the confidence to
volunteer their services. Barry had even mentioned to
Steve one time, how Terrence had convinced the parents
of the football team, holding their own fundraisers,
to spiff up the antiquated uniforms and other
necessities to equip the high school team.

"Not that you're not going to benefit."

"Let's have it," Barry strikes both index fingers
against thumbs, slapping his palms in snaps, over and
over, "Let's have it."

Steve smiled. Whether in school, at home, elsewhere,
he knew his mate could deliver the impetuous attitude,
speeding up a person's response.

"The youth campout. He wants me to take up the cooking
staff."

"Staff?"

Max giggles, "Yeah. Myself and one of my buds from
Degaugues, plus I kind of talked Berk into helping
out."

"Berk, eh?" Barry adds to Steve's comment, as the
french fry finally gets eaten, "Remember that little
boys are going to be present.... no hanky-panky going
on in the kitchen?"

Max responds, "There's no `kitchen'. It's an outside
tarp."

"My point exactly!"

Joking, Max says, "Look. I think I know that, dah!"

"Sorry. Just my `fatherly concern'."

"Yeah. Thanks. Now, would you take the french-fry
monster outta here and let me finish my prep?"

"C'mon Barry. I can tell when I'm not wanted!"

However, Barry already stretched Steve's tee shirt out
of shape, putting the edge on their exit.

%

As the ambulances pulled up to the emergency area of
WR General Hospital, Dr. Maria Scalia arrived, stat,
requested by blaring hallway speakers.

"Oh fuck!" She said.

Her eyes connected with eleven year old, Tim Miller's
still body, lying on the sheet covered gurney.

"His fourteen year old brother is in the other
ambulance," the dark-haired EMT informed her.

"History?"

It's a loose meaning term Maria always flung at the
EMT's when they brought in a victim in need of medical
treatment.

"We don't have much to go on ma'am," Neil van der
Beck, the new kid on the block, informed her.

"Ma'am? What kind of fuckin' shit is that?"

The staff didn't exactly break out in laughter, even
though the severity of the boys' condition had been
apparently in need of dire attention, but looked to
Neil, as if saying, `you'll learn'.

Neil's buddy, Angelo leans over, tells him, "She likes
to be called `Maria' or `doc'."

"I don't see what's wrong with `ma'am'."

Angelo placed his hand on Neil's forearm, covered with
a thin coat of blond fur.

"She's really a very nice person, Neil. Takes getting
used to her ways. `Thinks she'll lose her spunk, her
zest for life, if people put `older' tags on her."

Neil understood, adding a little smile.

Sensing Neil's unmistakbly sensitivity, Angelo asks,
"Hey, we're still on for dinner tonight?"

"Sure," Neil replied, "can't wait."

Squeezing each other's hand, had to do, lieu of
another affectionate means of communication.

"See you later."

Dark tannes, naturally, Angelo followed Dr. Scalia's
lead, wheeling the eleven year old's body out of the
elevator and into a room.

"I knew it won't take long!"

Angelo acted like nothing happened, responding to the
fifty-four year old doctor, "What?"

"Don't give me that damn look, Angelo Vespucci! I've
known ya since you were knee high to a kitten. You
can't tell me you ain't got the hots for the boy!"

Dr. Scalia wasn't really a country hic, but when she
joked, she made it sound like it. Plus, she didn't
leave  room for Angelto to speak, in their personal
conversation, as she turned towards the professional
aspect of the reason she's employed at WR General
Hospital.

As Angelo helped unravel the tatters of Tim's shirt,
Maria turned to her scorning, "They should tar and
feather whomever did this to this poor boy!"

"His father, I hear," Callan, recalls, stationed on
one side of the youth's body.

"Another case of child abuse. So, what else is new?"

It's not Dr. Scalia took the incident lightly. In her
free time, it's one of the causes she took up, when on
her own time. Undressing Tim's body, she cringed when
she spotted the welts, crisscrossing the lad's back.

"Damn shame!"

Just then, Riley walks in.

"The kids father just passed on."

Engrossed in her work, Maria comments, "Like my heart
is breaking... hand me that gauze, Cal!" Then she
added, "If that's all you've got to say, then clear
out. Can't you see this is a germfree area?"

Riley, standing there at over six feet tall, looked
down upon himself, taking in the view of his police
uniform, compared it to the two orderlies, decked out
in their hospital scrubs. He did take notice of the
dark-haired Italian. Leaving, he thought how normally,
he wouldn't let anyone get away with sassing him like
that. However, leaving the room, he smiled, saying to
himself, `Damn, she would make one helluva
dominatrix!'

%

2B continued...


Copyright 2006 T. Chase McPhee
This story may not be sold, nor made part of any
collection without prior written permission, by the
author.