Date: Fri, 31 Aug 2007 10:14:52 -0700 (PDT)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: Natures Trail 24

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's Trail" 24
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"So, how did you like your first day at customer
service?"

"It was okay," is all John said to Tom, without
looking up, making eye contact.

"It can be tiring. Knock the energy out of you," Tom
said, cheerfully, at the same time sensing the
low-keyed attitude.

"Must be it," John said, sorting out some receipts,
filing them away into a compartment of a zippered bag.


Tom knew `it' wasn't it. When John addressed a
customer, a wide turn around occured, a more cheerful
approach to customer service, full of energy and
pizzazz. When they returned to a company of two, he
said, "You know I'm not the enemy here, John?"

"Whatever you say, Tom," John said, turning his back
to the counter, saying, "I have to finish up before my
shift is over."

Banging his fist down on the counter, Tom took off,
headed for the main stockroom. Busting in the doors,
he shouted, "What did you tell John?"

A trucker was having his manifest signed off. Changing
his attitude, Tom greeted the distributor, as Kevin
walked him to the loading dock, closing the outdoors
off, locking the double doors behind him.

"Now what's this about, Tom?"

"John. He's giving me the cold shoulder. What went on
between you two?"

Parking his ass on a carton, Kevin straddled the
pallet jack, resting his arms across the top, he
opened with, "First of all I want to say you treated
John like shit."

"Yeah. So? You were supposed to fix that, I thought?"

"Me? Fix it? Undo the damage you've caused. How am I
supposed to do that?"

"He likes you. Trusts you. He'll believe anything you
tell him," Tom says.

"Look. I told him a little about what we talked about.
Not the whole story. Just enough to cover the `over
protective' bit. I asked John to take the customer
service job as a favor to me, but let him know it was
coming from you. I told him you're not bad to get a
long with. There's only so much I can say Tom. As far
as how you two getting along, that's up to you."

"But he's being so stubborn about it, Kev!"

"Like I said. You treated him like shit. In his own
way he has to learn how to trust you, see that you can
be fair. No way I can do anything about that. It has
to come from you."

>From a sixpack, Tom steals a can of Dr. Pepper, flips
open the tab and catching a sip, before it bubbles
over. "I suppose your right," Tom replies.

"Another thing," Kev relays.

"That's okay. Keep it coming. I can take it."

"It's not about you. Tom, I think I'm falling for
John."

"Like in love? You can't do that. You're only nineteen
years old. You have to get through college. Get a job.
Find your place in the world."

"Like you?" Kev says, sarcastically.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Tom asks, a hand
on hip, as he sets the can down on the pallet.

"Look at you. When's the last time you had a date?"

"I told you. I'm seeing this cubeboy at the club in
Madison."

"What'd you do? Sweeten his cock and balls with ten
bucks, and he winked at you?"

"Yeah, that and I had a drink with him later on. So,
what's your point, Kev?" Tom states.

"All I've seen over the past few years is you working
your ass off. Before your cubeboy, you haven't
seriously dated a man. You're a workaholic. You get
here before opening and stick around til closing most
of the time. Your mind is like a calculator, always
worried about beating yesterday's figures. It's all
you talk about. Work-work-work... What man wants to
compete with a man married to his job?"

"I don't know how we got on this subject, but you're
way out of line here, Kev."

"Am I? Think about it, Tom. I love John and I'm not
going to wait around to find a place to fit him into
my life, around everything else. I'm going to build my
life around us." Then, excusing himself, "It's time
for me to go."

Tom's body turned, his eyes keenly following his
brother, bursting open the double doors, making his
exit. Taking another Dr. Pepper, he turned to the
desk, staring at it. The `beat yesterday' file open on
the computer, right there in front of him, trying to
cheer himself up, talking outloud to the dollars and
cents, "Hah! Married to you!" Hitting a button on the
monitor, he turned it off, seeing his reflection in
the dark screen. He then thought about everything
Kevin said, especially the part about the cubeboy. He
failed miserably at trying to convince his brother
there was one man in his life to care about him.
Inadvertently, he began convincing himself Kevin
voiced the truth.

%

"This where you live?" Juan asked, looking out the
front dashboard at a house, with roofs resembling
mountain peaks.

"This is the place," Riley tells him, getting out of
the patrol car. He tells Juan, still sitting, "It's
unlocked."

Emerging, Juan asks, "What's in the barn?"

"Some horses and a rooster who can't keep his mouth
shut in the morning!"

Turning to Riley, Juan turned his lips up a little in
a gesture to smile. "Do you ride?"

"Mostly on the weekends," Riley says, switching his
thoughts from something of a wisecrack, to the `other'
meaning, "Want to take a look?"

"Sure," Juan says.

Heading off to the barn, Riley pulls open half of the
big square doors. They enter.

"Sure smells like a barn."

"And how would you know a fact such as that?"

"Part of the equation for the information you're
trying to get out of me," Juan says.

"Hmm," Riley says, assessing the situation. "So, I
take it you know about horses?"

"I've ridden one a few times," Juan replies, gently
petting one of the horses coat of soft hair, randomly
singled out.

"Tucker there... he isn't too good with strangers,"
Riley points out, about the horse he's pampering.

"Sometimes it only takes some TLC to make a friend."

"Want to take him out for a ride?"

"Would be great, but I'm not really dressed for it,"
Juan replies, looking down upon himself, a WRCC team
jacket, a red and navy speedo still clinging to his
bod, from the place in time where he was cuffed.

"I've got some duds up at the house. Might be a bit
large for you."

Out of the barn the two walk, up to the porch of the
house.  Entering, Juan's eyes look high and low, from
east to west, taking in the interiors. "Nice
fireplace," he says, standing in front of it, glancing
up, as the flagstone pattern rises with the contour of
the cathedral ceiling.

"Thanks. Want a beer?"

"No thanks. If I'm going to ride a horse, well, it's
like riding a car. Drinking and driving?"

"Oh," Riley says, agreeing, "I guess you're right.
Water?"

"Sure. That will be fine."

Vacating the room, Juan looks over all the little cool
knick-knacks setting about. Unzipping his WRCC swim
hoodie, he strips it off, clenching it in one hand. He
experiences a shiver from only having a tank top on,
resulting in goosebumps forming on his skin, his nips
hardening up, peaks causing the WRCC-licensed top to
stretch tighter over his pecs.

"Here we go," Riley says, "I hope you don't mind the
bottle?"

"Fine with me. So, where are those clothes?"

Walking around the sofa, Riley's index finger,
wiggling like a worm, lures Juan into following him.
Across the room, they take a flight of stairs to the
second floor, walking along a balcony.

"This place is really cool," Juan says, looking over
the railing, down into the room he was just in. As he
follows Riley into the bedroom, he says, "Wow! You
call this a bedroom?"

"Like it?"

"It sure is roomy!"

Not even asking, Juan drops his ass on the bed, his
hands pinching the mattress as if testing for a ripe
melon. "Firm," he describes it.

"Here," Riley says, tossing Juan a flannel shirt,
which falls over his head.

"Hey!" Juan complains, uncovering his head, a hand
readjusting his chic-styled hair. Right after, Riley
tosses a pair of jeans.

"You might have to roll them up."

"Maybe. How tall are you?" Juan asks, pulling his tank
top off over his head.

"Six foot-one. You?"

"Five-ten."

Riley watched as the swim jock fed his hands into the
sleeves of the shirt. The cuffs more than covered his
hands. He pulled on the sleeves, hiking the cuffs up
to his elbows. When he stood to slide the speedo off
his ass, the shirt sleeves unraveled. Since his hands
were already attached to the swimsuit, he peeled them
off anyway. "There's gotta be a better way," he
thought. So, he stripped off the shirt, then put on
the jeans. "Not much different," Juan said, hiking the
waist of the jeans halfway up his stomach. covering
his treasure trail and navel. When Riley stepped out
of the walk-in closet to assess the outfit, Juan stood
there, as if in shock. "Damn, you're gorgeous!"

Standing there, Riley grinned, rubbing one of his
hands over his dark, hairy chest, down his hairy
trail, then tucking his thumb in at the hip of his
jeans. Juan almost tripped, walking over to Riley.

"Can I... touch it?"

Not answering, Riley tilted his chin down, watching
Juan walk over to him, hand extended. Making contact,
Juan felt up the curly hair, midchest. His mouth
dropped open, closing his eyes, sighing, as if
somebody was feeling him up. "This feels soooooo
nice."

Hands on both hips, Riley stood there, letting Juan
get playful with his body fur. His head dropped back,
sighing when Juan leaned in, his lips zeroing in on
his left pec, cupping around his nip. As the sucking
action continued, Riley's hand found it's way to the
back of Juan's head. Gently he stroked the latino's
fine mane, as if petting one of his horses. The
wonderful moment came to a halt when Riley felt Juan's
hands trying to unbutton his jeans. Stopping him,
Riley's hands gripped Juan's wrists.

"Don't you want a blow job now?" Juan asked, looking
up three inches to Riley's face.

"A bit eager, aren't you Juan?"

Shrugging his shoulders, he replied, "I like giving
head."

"I had a feeling you did." Grabbing a flannel shirt,
Riley pulled on it, letting the hanger seesaw over the
bar. "C'mon. Let's go for that ride before the sun
goes down."

%

"I've got to go," Jose informed Denis.

"Thanks for stopping in," Denis said, a little smile
on his lips.

"I'm not on duty tomorrow, so I can come by here right
after school, if it's okay?"

"Sure it's okay, as long as you don't have anything
better to do."

"Nope," the seventeen year old replied. "That is if I
can finish my homework in study hall. I have it the
last period of the day."

"I love it when that happens. Way back in September I
had study hall last period. I was able to get early
release, but for the second half of the school year I
got stuck with a lab."

"You don't like science either?"

"Don't get me wrong. Science is one of my stronger
subjects. I might want to major in a field of
science."

"Cool! I thought about geology myself."

"Really now?" Denis said, eyes lighting up. "I
collected rocks a lot when I was a kid."

"I still do," Jose informed him. "Listen, I have to
get home. It's the only time I see my dad before he
goes off to his second job. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Cool," Denis replied.

Almost as soon as Jose vanished, the four walls closed
in on him, the ceiling becoming his past time again.
The late afternoon sun shone through the window, it's
power like a magnet, wooing Denis out of bed and over
to the window. Grabbing the string, he elevated the
blind til he could take in the view of the parking
lot, evergreens and the hills in the distance. When he
saw Jose weave through the cars, Denis knocked on the
glass. However, being above ground level, he was
beyond Jose's range of hearing. He smiled, recalling a
lot of things Jose mentioned during their
conversation. Then he saw Jose stop at one of the
cars, seemingly centered in the lot. The driver side
opened. He watched as Jose approached the male driver,
leaning over the door, kissing him. "You're gay?"
Denis thought out loud. Almost immediately, Jose
rushed around to the other side, climbed in and they
were off.

"Hellooooo! Anybody home?"

"Just me," Denis said, turning around, seeing Aunt
Bernice standing there, with her small entourage.

"Good to see you out of bed, son," Steve said, walking
up to Denis, throwing his arms around him before
Bernice got a hold of him!

"Hi Alberto," Denis said over Bernice's shoulder,
shaking his hand, underneath Bernice's elbow.

Almost immediately, Bernice said they needed to visit
a friend, her saying, "We'll leave you to visit with
your dad."

Even though Denis was happy to see his dad, Bernice
and Alberto, he questioned, "Have you seen Mark yet?"

"Matter of fact, we came right from there," Steve told
him.

"And?" Denis asked, inhaling a deep breath.

His father smiling, parking his butt on the end of the
bed, arms folded across his chest, Denis could tell
good news was forthcoming.

"His eyes were open. As soon as he saw me, he asked
for you." Steve figured this would raise Denis'
spirits, having him dancing with elation. However, the
eighteen year old put both hands to his face, his
shoulders crumbling, exhaling as he broke into all out
crying. Hopping off the bed, Steve's left shoulder
caught his head, pressing into his chest, as he threw
his arms around his son, consoling him. His dad ran
his hands up and down Denis' back, calming him as if
he was a baby, cooing, "Shhh, now. You should be happy
about Mark."

Backing away a little, Denis said, "I know... but..."

"I hope you're not still blaming yourself for what
happened?"

"Barry told you?" the youth asked about his other dad,
wiping his eyes with his forearm.

Reaching in his pocket, Steve pulls out a
handkerchief, confiding in his son, "We don't keep
anything from each other."

"I suppose," Denis replied, using the cloth to wipe
his snot, instead of his dad's shirt.

"Did Dr. Roberts stop by today?" His dad inquired.

Shaking his head gave his dad the negative answer.

"Well the day is not over. I'm sure you will be seeing
him."

"Do I have to?" Denis asks.

"You want to get well, don't you?"

Denis nodded, replying, "Yeah."

"Your father and I agreed it would be best for you to
get some professional help."

"What do I say to Dr. Roberts?"

"Everything and anything. Tell him as much as you him
want to know. Mainly I think you should have a
discussion with him about your relationship with Mark.
Unload your mind of anything that's bothering you."

"Do I have to tell him Mark and I slept together in
the same bed? That we had sex together?"

"Two things. One, whatever you say to Dr. Roberts
stays confidential... between you and he. As a trained
psychiatrist he's sworn to an oath of privacy. The
other thing is, in order for him to treat you, he has
to know everything about you, which I would say
includes the truth about you and your brother."

With his head falling, as if he's looking at his
father's stomach, Denis says, "Mark and I looked up
some stuff on the internet."

"And?"

"We found out that two brothers having sex can get us
into trouble," Denis replied, looking to his dad's
face for guidance.

"I'm not going to refute your claim. I'm not up on my
law, but as I said, Dr. Roberts will keep anything you
say confidential."

"Even from the cops?"

"As I understand it, the only way the police can find
out, is if they subpoena Dr. Roberts' notes on you."

"I don't know if I want to take that chance. Forget
me, but look at it this way, Mark is in on this too!"

Steve smiled, saying, "You really think a lot of your
brother, don't you?"

"We're both each other's best friend and...."

"And what, son?"

"Even though it might not be right, we both think it
was okay to try out some sex stuff. I mean, isn't it
better we did it with each other, then say, one of our
buds?"

"I'm not sure how to answer that," Steve thought,
wondering why he left home without his partner.
"What's done is done. I think the important thing is
to get Mark and you well so you are already to attend
college in the fall."

A thought stuck in his head from moments ago, Denis
saying, "I want to major in geology."

Taken aback, Steve stretches his head back, refocusing
his attention, saying, "What brought this on?"

With the wandering away from the subject matter of
mental health, Steve sits back down on the bed. Denis
sits back in the tangle of sheets, indian style.

"I was talking about it with Jose and felt maybe like
it was for me."

"Who's Jose?"

"Jose Vega. He's this great guy who works at the
hospital for community service or something like that.
He's a junior at school. Really down to earth. Not
like a lot of guys for his grade."

Steve folded his arms across his chest and let Denis
take off on a tangent.

"We talked about a lot of stuff. He's real smart and
offered to help me with my math."

"That's awfully nice of him," Steve commented.

"He also knows a lot about science and said he wants
to maybe take up geology when he gets into college."

"No doubt there's an interest, with the Pacific
Northwest rich in geological history," Steve
supplements the endeavors.

"Remember when us guys were younger? When Aidan was a
baby, how we used to go on hikes and collect rocks?"

"I remember," Steve takes a mental flashback, almost
feeling the carrier on his back, whereas Aidan
received a free ride.

"Remember when Sean got lost and we couldn't find him
for an hour?"

It was a scary thought, but nonetheless a memory.
"I'll never forget it!"

Now they could laugh about it!

As Denis leaned back, his elbows leaned into the bed,
propping his bod up. As if in a time machine, his
thoughts of the present returned.

"What?" Barry asked, as if Denis was backsliding into
negative thought.

"I can't even imagine what life would be like if
Mark's family never moved out here," Denis replied.

"A few times I've wondered the same, myself," Steve
replied, smiling.

"Tell me something, dad. Did it take you awhile to
fall in love?"

As clear as if it was yesterday and not two years
past, Steve pictures in his mind jogging down Bridges
Lane, seeing Bernice in the distance, her client at
her side. With the next detail coming to mind, he
replied, "No, son. As a matter of fact, when I came
down the road, seeing your Aunt Bernice standing there
with her client, something `clicked' inside of me..."

"Gaydar?"

"Could've been, but I'll leave the explanation up to a
higher power. Anyway, when I saw your dad standing
there, I could swear it was love at first sight."

"Well what would have happened if it turned out he
wasn't gay?"

Exhaling, as if relieved, Steve replies, "I think it
would have been the saddest day of my life."

"How come? It's not like you dated him forever, before
you found out."

"I suppose it was a combination of a lot of things."

"The `bear' thing?" Denis said, for the second time
cracking a little smile.

"How did you know about that?" Steve said, squinting
his eyes, as he stare at his son.

"Sorry, but I came to your room one night to ask you
something and heard you and Barry through the door,
getting it on. I heard your nickname for him!"

It made Steve giggle, even though Denis was all
apologetic.

"I can't deny, when I first laid eyes on your father,
I wasn't thinking about it," Steve confessed.

"I think it's kind of cool how dad's sons are about
the same age as us, except for Sean. Too bad Matty met
Chad before Sean got a chance."

"Don't you think Sean did alright, hooking up with
Jacques?"

"Yeah. I think they make a cool pair," Denis said,
lightheartedly, adding, "even though we hardly see
Sean anymore."

"He's busy with college. Remember Sean wasn't always
great at getting good grades."

"He used to get a lot of D's," Denis recalled.

"Right. He hasn't had the advantage of getting decent
grades, like you other boys."

"Except in math," Denis reminds his father, bringing
up old skeletons.

"You were doing well before you started cutting class
to be on the swim team, weren't you?"

"I was pulling a B. I guess that's decent. But with
the cutting, not only did I fall behind, but Mr.
Hanson was out gunning for me."

"Oh now, you can't go blaming your failures on someone
else. I've known Mr. Hanson for numerous years. We
both received tenure at the same time. He's really a
very nice person. Reporting you for cutting is the
same thing I would do for a student who misses three
classes. I don't think it was his intentions to single
you out. Think of it this way, he gave you some slack
by informing me first?"

"I suppose."

"Your father informed me you never bothered to hand in
the note you composed."

Shrugging his shoulders, Denis replies, "I didn't
think it mattered, after I flunked the math test."

Seeing Denis falling fast, back into the pit of
depression, Steve consoles, "Whatever was done, is
done. The important thing is you feel better about
yourself and get back on your feet."

"Do you think you could talk to Mr. Hanson? You
know... tell him what happened?"

"I already have," his father reports. "When I
mentioned I was coming to see you, he sent his
regards, wishing you a speedy recovery and hopes you
will be returning to school soon."

"He said that?"

"I told you. Mr. Hanson is not the enemy. He's a very
nice man who was only doing his job."

"So he's cool with the cuts?" Denis feels his dad out.

"He never filed the report, but he made it known he
wants to talk to you."

Denis figured he would be getting a lecture, but since
Hanson hadn't turned him in for cutting, he could bear
to stand there and take the grief.

"Evening," came the soft, male voice, as the door
opened, a head sticking in. "Alright if I come in?"

Standing, Steve recognized the police office from
yesterday. "Certainly you may, officer...."

He didn't complete the phrase, forgetting the cop's
name.

Offering his hand to Steve, he refreshed his memory,
"Darryl Tudyk."

As they greeted each other, Steve noticed how the
officer acknowledged him, but then glanced over his
shoulder.

"You look different," Denis immediately noticed.

"I'm not on duty," Darryl replied.

"Well, I've got to be going," Steve announces, looking
at his watch.

Before he left, he hugged Denis and for the umpteenth
time, reassured him things would go well.

"Thanks for coming, dad," Denis called out, as Steve's
hand pulled on the door latch, smiling as he passed
through the square archway.

 "Nice shirt," Denis started out with.

Looking down at his chest, Darryl replied, "Thanks,"
with a wry smile.

"Do I get to keep this one?" Denis asked of the
identical shirt clinging to his bod.

"Sure. We've got dozens back at the station."

A lull occured whereas Darryl stood there, his shirt
tucked into his jeans, his hands folded behind his
back, which contorted his body so that his shirt drew
right down over his pecs, his nips showing through the
fabric like the tops of two mountain peaks. Denis
figured he better say something quick before Darryl
knew he was checking him out.

"So you're a rookie, huh?"

"Yeah. Everybody has to start at the bottom of the
totem pole," Darryl replied. "Um, mind if I take a
seat?"

"Nope. Help yourself."

Proceeding to one of the chairs in the room, the
twenty-four year old officer sits. Being the hospital
bed was higher and Denis was reclining, he swung his
feet over the side, sitting up.

"Aren't you supposed to be lying down?"

"What's wrong with me is in my head," Denis said,
adding a little smile.

"Depression?" Darryl hinted.

"I don't know. My dad says Dr. Roberts is supposed to
stop by and test me for an evaluation. He hasn't shown
yet, but my dad assures me he will, before the end of
the night. Um... so... ah, what do you like to do
besides run around chasing the bad guys?"

After a short laugh, Darryl replies, "Relax, go to the
movies, read... when I lived in Cali, I did some
surfing..."

"Cool! You surf?"

"I'd like to think of myself as being more than a
novice, but it seems I spent more time paddling a
board than standing on top of it!"

"I imagine that's how come you have such a tight
build?"

After he said it, Denis knew he must've revealed the
thought of checking Darryl out.

Sitting up straight, gazing down upon himself, Darryl,
hands on his thighs, removes his right hand and pats
his stomach, saying, "I could lose a few pounds."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Not really."

Denis had some serious twitching going on when Darryl
took hold of his own shirt, tugging on it, tearing it
out of his jeans, revealing the wrinkle in his
stomach, a tight trail splitting his abs.

"You must do a lot of crunches."

Dropping his tee shirt, he replies, "I try to get in
three or four days a week at the gym. It's a shame
they don't have a pool. I miss the cross-training."

"Are you a triathlete?"

"I suppose if you count the surfing, I could qualify."

It's the first time in a long time Denis felt like
laughing.

His head glancing to the window, Darryl pushes up on
the arms of the chair, saying as he rises up, "Will
you look at that?"

"What?" Denis quizzes him, watching him go to the
window.

"The one thing, since I've moved here that rivals
Coronado Beach!"

Placing his hands next to each thigh, Denis hops off
the bed, walking over to the window, following
Darryl's lead. "What are you looking at, Darryl?"

"It's magnificent, `el cielo baja, los arboles
ascienden, el espacio solo es luz y sylencio, solo
espacio abierto para el aguila del ojo, pasa la blance
tribu de las nubes...'" he quotes to Denis.

"You know Spanish?"

"Some. It's getting to be a way of life in Cali, these
days. But it was part of a poem I was quoting," Darryl
clues Denis in.

Standing next to Darryl, Denis asks, "What does it
mean?"

" `The sky comes down, trees rise, space becomes
nothing but light and silence, open space for the
eagle of the eye, the white tribe of clouds goes
by'..."

Ending his dissertation, Darryl just stands there,
smiling, as the evening sun courses in the window,
making his face and arms seem more red than they are.

"In school we read some poetry," Denis tells him,
staring out the window, admiring the sunset, the after
affects of Darryl's words hanging in his mind.

"It's a whole different world, like music and art."

"What kind of music do you like?"

Shifting position, Darryl leaned against his back
against the wall, stuffing his hands in the pockets of
his jeans, his thumbs on the outside. "Oh, I go with
most everything; classical, jazz, some rock... I don't
go much for rap, though I recognize it as an art
form."

"That's deep," Denis replies.

"I kind of like the sound of Maroon 5. Have you heard
of them?"

"Have I heard of them? What teen hasn't! Adam Levine
is so damn hot!" After he said it, Denis wondered how
Darryl perceived the remark. "I mean he's real cool."

A toothless grin on his face, Darryl looked at Denis.
He already had him pegged and rather than having Denis
sweat it out, he said, "I think you're cool!" His
smile opened up, showing his perfectly straight, white
teeth.

Blushing, Denis said, "Well thanks," shooting his
glance to the floor.

"In fact I think you're more than cool."

"What was that?"

"Nothing," Darryl says, shooing the thought away with
his hand, thinking he went too far.

At first Denis didn't know what to think of it, this
twenty-four year old police officer saying things like
that about him. One thing he did know is, he had to
sit down before Darryl noticed his shaft, in
transformation mode. Back at the bed, he sat down,
placing the sheet over his lap.

As for Darryl, he had a strong desire not to hold back
his feelings, so he dropped a subtle hint, saying, "I
think Adam Levine is kind of hot, too!"

%

Copyright 2007 T. Chase McPhee
This story may not be sold, nor made part of any
collection, without prior consent from the author.