Date: Wed, 5 Oct 2011 16:32:00 -0700 (PDT)
From: Tchase Mcphee <survivalgame@rocketmail.com>
Subject: RancH HanDs 07

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,
of continents or islands, in countries, counties, cities, towns, villages,
neighborhoods, streets, cul-de-sacs, nor governmental or non-governmental
areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male
relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if guy-to-guy
sex stuff makes you barf or is going to screw up your mind, you should not
read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most
states 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.

%

RancH HanDs 07
a continuation of `CoMPany payLoaD',
WriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

While the campus of Elemental Habitat was on lunch call, Art Smith thought
no better time than now to escort Demont on a more defined tour of the
security facilities.

"Here," a key opens a door upon a bleak room, equipped with a bed, nothing
more than a sheet covering it, a pillow at the top, "we have one of the
main focal areas of discipline."

Walking in, Demont assesses the ceiling, walls and finally glances across
the floor, "Four walls, a single window, ceiling, floor and bed. Bland."

"Exactly," Art replies, "for the first offender. Usually a ranch hand needs
only a day or two to cool off, get their heads together."

"And second offenders?"

Art's loins were already cooking, watching Demont's every move. In essence,
it seemed like already, he sensed Demont's approval, even though not much
was said. However, incarcerating a ranch hand all alone in a room for up to
two days, wasn't anything too severe. He could almost taste it on his
tongue, his mind reeling with the prospect of how much Demont was going to
like the next few areas on his tour guide list.

"This..." Art swings open another door, "is stage two."

Purposefully Art waited for Demont to enter, look around, get his bearing
on the possibilities for discipling. He smiles when Demont goes to the
center of the almost vacant room, lifts an arm and takes in his hand one of
the two cuffs hanging from chains, saying, "And these would be for?"

Smartly, Art says, "Handcuffs are usually used for wrists," sighing,
"although I can't deny ankles fit as well."

Well-versed at how this could go, Demont asks, "And what would be the
purpose of hanging a boy from his ankles?"

A slip of the tongue was driving Art towards things he had in mind to share
with Demont. Vocabulary such as `boy' fit the bill perfectly!

"Many purposes, Demont. Eighty percent of the time, it straightens out a
`boy' by hanging him by his arms for a few hours. `Then' comes the
important question, `Have you had enough?' to the boy."

Because this wasn't only about what he felt, Art leaves a moment of
silence. Up until now, his speculation over how much of the realm of
discipline, connected with the other realms of `bsm', was Demont willing to
travel to.

Taking the bait, Demont moves to around where either himself, Art or
another man would stand, for the sole purpose of, "Hanging by his ankles,"
Demont's two hands reached up, grabbed the two leather cuffs, "and legs
brought down lower," he tried pulling, but they didn't budge, Art going to
the wall and pushing a lever.

Mechanically, the cuffs lowered on chains, Art asking, "Tell me when to
stop."

Eyeing up the distance, Demont had to use his imagination, making an
approximation of where a boy's ass had to be in order to propel him into
action. "Stop!"

"You're plan?" Art was greedy for details, approaching Demont and standing
next to him.

For dramatic effect, Demont steps forwards about a foot and reaching in
front of himself with both hands, he imitates grabbing a man around the
thighs, "Then I enter from here, grab him around the legs and... and then
there is nothing more but pleasure!"

It wasn't like reading a porno story, but Art got the message. However,
reading into what Demont was saying, he adds, "And I tell you Demont, from
experience, it feels so hot drilling a boy's ass from this position!"

Thinking things were going his way, thinks differently as Demont replies,
"Tell me something. How does fucking, keep a boy from committing the same
crime? Unless he is top?"

Art was going at this from the wrong perspective. Entirely on a different
plane of reasoning, he figured Demont was about to inform Demont of all of
the hot ass the two could get, by the day, by the night, whenever and how
it didn't much of an infraction to beef up the supply of ass. If Demont
took the bait and allowed his crotch to override any other reasoning, Art
was about to clue Demont into the `supply and demand' system, utilizing
payoffs to certain personnel at the habitat, such as Professor
Moffit. Thinking he better make it look good, Art says, "Let me show you
something else!"

Having Demont outside the door, Art Smith had a sense of inner relief,
being out of there, hoping `out of sight', would put this out of Demont's
mind. Thinking on Demont's words, of discipline, he skipped right to the
main focus, "Here is where it really focuses on attention of punishment,"
he said, not sure exactly how to put it, only hoping it would draw
favorable comment from Demont.

As for Demont, he was thinking how hot it could be, fucking a boy upside
down, but from principle point of view, he didn't think `rape' was
constitutional to proper disciplining.

Led into another room, there was a wooden pole in the middle. Around it,
three quarters of the way, were wooden benches. Arranged much like a
circular theater, Art explains, "I hope you can get the gist of this,
Demont?"

At the top of the pole there was a single ring. At the bottom, two
identical rings were attached to the floor. In no time, Art had gone to a
closet and retrieved two implements, a flogger and leather strap.

"Which would be your implement of correction, Demont?"

Something was bothering Demont. Back home, at `The Chasm' and here at the
habitat, there was a big difference as far as how things worked. Whether it
was whipping a guy or fucking his ass, it was done on a totally different
basis. When it came to `corrections', he wasn't sure. Yet, not having been
around the habitat for long, he did not want to `step on' his superior's
toes. Instead, he prudently chooses, "I'd like to see how your justice
works, Art!"

Astounded, because Art didn't think `the tour' was going along with
favorable reaction, "Tonight will be your chance then. I have two boys who
reported late for class and, as Professor Moffit reports to me, they went
on to be disruptive and insubordinate."

Not knowing Moffit, or the sexual favors guaranteed by Art Smith, Demont
takes it at face value, "Sounds like a couple of unruly ranch hands?"

Art replies, "First offenders, but in my own opinion I think they need a
harsh lesson in discipline."

To get things straight, Demont inquires, "So `you` and who else makes the
decisions?"

With thoughts of Demont thinking he acts on his own, which most of the
time, does, Art says, "Oh, it's not only my say. I assemble a panel of
fellow security and we all determine the outcome of the sentence."

To Demont it all sounded like wishy-washy law enforcement, more like
`force', when he knew from past experiences, `making' a person mend their
evil ways wasn't at all conducive to a person's reconditioning of mind, but
rather trying to fight evil with evil, which rarely served any peaceful
purpose. Like he thought, rather than make rash decisions, he let it go as,
"I see," not taking a stand either way.

In Art Smith's mind, Demont was falling more towards his will of decision
making and that was good. "Ready to see more?"

He was, Demont more than willing to take on what Art had to offer, but as
with the `dinging` of lunch hour, came the `ding` of it being over.

"Shit! I had so much to show you Demont, which I'm sure," Art says with
complete confidence, "would have gotten you off!"

"Maybe later," Demont says. In a right mind of law and order, it was on his
mind to do some investigation. First and foremost, he wanted to have it
straight in his mind, with clear conscience, the powers to be behind at the
habitat knowing of the `reconditioning program` offered by his assertive
leader. One thought wandered through Demont's mind, if by theory this had
been happening at a place like `The Chasm', whereas force was a chosen
option, a scenario going along as a guy `wanting' to be hung by his ankles
and fucked, then it would have had him already hard as a rock, stuck in the
up position and ready. However, it just wasn't stoking his mind or the
anatomy below his treasure trail as such.

On the way back to the security sector, Demont exchanged few words, Art
doing most of the talking. He shared how, over numerous years of his employ
at the habitat, he has had life good. Talking up much of his social life,
according to Demont, Art seemed to lose focus pertaining to the reasons for
his status as `director of security'.

Not that Demont wasn't into having a man coddle to his loins, or filling up
an ass with his `magic wand', but there always needed a place in time when
you have to say `stop' and face the reality of how you are affecting others
by your own actions. Paying half mind to where Art was going with his ideas
of `plenty of action around here', Demont reflects back to his past life,
life at the Harrellsson Building. He smiles, thinking of one of his last
endeavors, breaking up the little scenario he and Trystan broke up in the
executive mens lounge. Even though Art is shooting his mouth off regarding
some wild flings he has had, involving bdsm, sex and other exotic features,
Demont's mind is off on a tangent, ruled by that one experience, stemming
from his and Trystan's chance encounter, viewing Al Tarulli and Juan
Cortez, at first, David Schlesinger, third party involvement.

Nothing on earth at this moment could break Demont's mental reflections,
especially when his mind moved quickly from Al and Juan working over David
Schlesinger, then on to where he had his cock buried deep in Al's ass,
except for a third figure in the hallway.

"Oh, by the way Demont?" Art backhanded Demont, with a little slap to the
ribs, "Has anyone introduced you to your room mate as of yet?"

"Room mate?" Demont answers.

"Apparently not," Art replies.

In the usual manner, when reports for the day, pertaining to accrued
demerits found their way to Art Smith's office basket, it took one or two
days. However, special individuals took priority and as Art enters his
office, a lad sitting in a chair stands.

Because this is not his first time, Heath Hartshorn rises from his perch,
saying, "Reporting for punishment, sir!"

Of course, reporting to Art Smith was old news, having been to this office
a dozen or so times. No, Heath's eyes were more all over Demont.

Not the only one showing immense interest, before even speaking, Demont was
having designs on this ranch hand!

Leaving the subject of roommate till later, Art says, "And what do I have
the pleasure of punishing you for this time, Hartshorn?" Art sat down at
his computer, fired up the monitor.

Before he could access the offenses listed on his screen, Heath is
reporting to him, breaking his concentration from Demont, "I ran over an
irrigation hose with a wheelbarrow and broke it, causing a loss of not only
habitat resources, but setting our progress in the orchards back a day,
sir."

While Heath was conversing with Art Smith, Demont was sizing up the tall,
swimmer's build bod. He licked his lips, thinking of how Heath measured up,
about his 6'4" height, their eyes leveling off, Heath dropping about an
inch. He was clad in the traditional garb worn by ranch hands,
khaki-colored, buttoned down shirt, same pants. He wondered if the slight
bulge in Heath's pants was a result of being big, before or `after'. It
made him smile.

Looking up from telling Art Smith all the details, snagging Demont made him
break concentration, turning Heath from a dismal attitude, turning his lips
up into a smile.

Contagious, it broke way for Demont's silent thoughts, nodding his head
`yes', smiling back.

Both broke concentration, Art asking, "Demont, I'd like to hand Heath over
to you. I'd like to see how you `handle' his punishment?" Art sat there,
leaning back in his chair, relaxed, with hands behind his head. "Of course
I will be there to oversee everything going along."

He wasn't sure about it, not having a real feel of the situation, but
rather meekness, showing a rough figure of authority, arms folded across
his middle, Demont relays, "I think I can effectively drill some sense into
this boy."

If Heath's weren't hard enough for Demont in the last three minutes, his
shaft was gaining momentum, if not size. Years ago, when he came across Art
Smith, Heath felt the same thing, however this new, tall, young `master'
entering his life, his feelings are in total renewal, a pulsing within, a
wanting of Demont in ways he is not sure, but fulfillment of desires only
serves to spike his interest in getting with him.

Rising up out of his chair, perhaps showing his own excitement, Art
exclaims, "To the dungeon it is!"

%

"Tidy it up boys!" Laurent calls out, his crew of kitchen workers winding
up their session of making balls of dough for tomorrow, to become a batch
of pizzas.

Hewy asks him, rather exhausted, "Now, how many minutes before dinner is
served?"

"The bell rings at five thirty and we serve at six, which gives us more
than a few minutes!" Laurent exclaims.

One of the new kitchen recruits, Jake Figler, reports, "One of the guys
says to tell you everything is shipshape in the cafeteria and we're headed
off to classes."

"Great, is it Jack?" Laurent questions identity.

"Jake," Jake replies sheepishly.

It doesn't go unnoticed, the twenty year old's glance to Hewy.

"You better run along so you're not late," Laurent tells him, because he
sensed Jake's mind was lingering too long. He also reminds, "You don't want
the wrath of Art Smith on you!"

"No, sir," Jake backs out of the kitchen, "surely don't, sir!"

"Nice young man," Hewy quips.

"Yes," Laurent agrees, "very polite."

Hewy says of the chef's luncheon, "I suppose one of us is in charge of
cleaning up?" Without waiting around, Hewy begins the chore.

On Laurent's mind, he says, "Oh look at that," he goes for a kitchen
implement, "one of the boys forgot to clean this up."

"I'll get it," Hewy says, because it was closer to him, picking up a
wooden-handled board, used for scooping pizza out of the oven.

Holding it by the handle, Hewy equates it to one of the paddles he's used
in a dungeon scene. It kind of gives him a zing! Holding it up, he looks at
it, turns it over and gazes at the other side.

"Dirty?" Laurent asks.

"No," Hewy responds, lowering it. Slipping, he says, "It just reminds me of
something."

"Oh?" Laurent doesn't let it go, thinking of the time in cooking school,
when, as part of a practical joke, one of his fellow cook-mates swatted him
in the ass with a wooden cutting board.

"Nothing," Hewy says, thinking like he's said something bad.

Even though not a word of it was true, Laurent says, "Reminds me of the
paddle my daddy used on me when I was bad."

Hewy responds, with an ounce of lust, "Really?"

"Trust me, it wasn't such a bad ordeal."

"Must've hurt, though?" Hewy ventures into new territory with Laurent.

Feeling led on, Laurent says, "Matter of fact," he was taking a chance
here, "I kind of grew `accustomed' to it.

Rubbing his palm up a side of it, Hewy knew he might be taking this
conversation too far, "Could really give a good sting?"

"I suppose it would depend on who is swinging it, no?"

By now, Laurent had affixed his eyes on Hewy's gaze, smiling, communicating
language another man could perceive as exactly what is on `his' mind.

Partially agreeing, Hewy says, "Depends on the ass and if a man could take
it."

It was like `asking,' Laurent not missing out on the chance to experience,
"Only one way to find out?"

"Like what are you saying?" Hewy questions Laurent's motives.

"It's only you and me!" Laurent says of the vacant kitchen, except for the
two playful chefs.

"Really?" Hewy checks for sure, "You want me to..."

Instead of words, Laurent acted, unbuttoning his long, white chef's
coat. Underneath he had a plain, white tee shirt. It and the white pants
show off the black belt around his waist when he removed the traditional
chefs jacket.

He asks, "Would you be wanting my pants up or down?"

"I don't know," Hewy replies, though at `The Chasm', he was in more of a
frame of mind to demand, having his bottom-boy already void of clothing,
except on occasion a lovely black leather harness!

Being Laurent has never taken a hit with a pizza board, he figures `both',
"How about a couple of swats with pants up, then on the bare hiney?" he
laughs.

"Okay," Hewy replies. Too, he smiles, Laurent's humor throwing off some of
the nervousness.

From there, Laurent leaning with two hands on the oversized stove, Hewy had
to grasp the handle with two hands and with a simple, `ready!' proceeded to
give Laurent a swat.

Right after impact, Laurent replying with an almost unheard, `ouch', they
both hear boasted out loud, "A man after my own heart!"

Immediately Laurent thought of Art Smith catching them in the act, however
Hewy knew the voice to be, "Geoff?"

Bdsm-mates from `The Chasm', Geoff having been Hewy's mentor, says, "Gimme
that thing. Let me show you how to really do it!"

Not even questioning Laurent, to what degree he was into this stuff, Geoff
goes on his own assumption, "Brace yourself, boy!"

Loving it, Geoff demeaning him in an awesome manner, Laurent does just
that. For whatever reason, he's doing some assuming himself, thinking his
new chef knows exactly what he's doing. "Ak-k-k-k-k-k-k-oh-oh-oh!" Laurent
hops around the kitchen, holding his ass.

"You didn't warn him," Hewy says.

"Oh," Geoff replies in a casual manner, "was I supposed to count to three
or something?" Same time he's running his eyes over the pizza board. "No
cracks. Damn good construction!"

By this time, Laurent is more concerned with his buns. In no time he had
unbuckled his belt, unzipped and dropped his pants to his ankles. His
briefs are down to almost his knees and he's contorting his bod so he can
look at his buns.

No seeing Geoff sneaking up to him, he feels a hand slap him on the ass
cheek, "Not even a red mark."

Checking things out, seeing how well Laurent took it, didn't only depend on
checking things out from the rear!

Circling Laurent, Geoff, pizza-paddle still an extension of his arm, his
other hand grabs up his superior's cock, "What have we here?"

To someone familiar, like maybe James, he would feel comfortable, but first
time with Geoff, Laurent turns a brilliant crimson, "Um, a hardon?"

Hewy, getting the same idea as Geoff, fondles the hand Geoff has on the
pizza board, "Maybe I try that again?"

Turning to both, not bothering on putting his crotch back together, Laurent
puts up two dukes in a stopping position, "No guys. C'mon, we..."

Sensing they could take this to unknown heights, Geoff responds, "That'll
be `sir' to you `boy'!"

Dropping his hands and the false warding off, Laurent questions with a
smile, "Yeah? You guys can get into this?"

A little less seasoned, because Geoff would be more investigative before
offering, Hewy says, "Give me the chance and I would work your balls and
nips until they are beet red!"

It actually made Geoff smile at the humorous way in which Hewy presented
it, coupled with the funny description, "Beet red? Really?"

However, in an accepting way, they hear it from Laurent, "Yeah, really?"

Getting the hang of things, like gaydar, Hewy says, "See, Geoff? He wants
it as much as you and I want to give it!"

Well, it's not exactly how Geoff would have gone about it, but Hewy brought
everything out into the open. It was like saving steps, cutting out all the
shit-drama involved in leading a man's mind to what was supposed and what
he liked.

"I see," Geoff responds to Hewy, but turns to Laurent. Taking the
opportunity, Laurent not shying away, Geoff's hand on the chef's cock,
fingertips sliding down the barrel, hand scooping up the two well-endowed
orbs, "Got anybody to work these tennis balls?" he gives a little squeeze.

"Mm-m-m-oh-h," biting a lip, then saying, "uh, yeah, my partner likes cock
and ball torture and..." he sighs from the slight second squeeze, "anything
else he feels like doing to me at the time."

Hewy was thinking it would be so nice to meet him, Geoff kicking up the
furnace, "We should meet."

For the moment, the moment being what it is, it would have to do, Geoff
slowly jerking Laurent's cock, Hewy opening both his own and Geoff's pants,
utilizing both hands, the three eventually making the kitchen floor slimy
and slippery!

%

For now, many of the areas of the habitat were put on hold until things
picked up again tomorrow morning. Almost all of the ranch hands were
involved in classes, chosen by themselves or for them. Those who weren't
could earn a few credits towards the dog-tags they wore around their necks,
for future purchases, like additional personal supplies or a good time had
at Atlantis some evening. Ranch hands worked hard for their dollar and once
established at the habitat, found everything doesn't come free.

With bikes snuggly in their stalls, Rally and James had ventured off to
Atlantis. Before departing the glass depot, Rally says, "Oh here, James,
Dutch told me to give this to you."

Holding the metal, beaded chain in his hand, two dog tag attached, James
snatches it away, "Oh cool! Makes feel like I really belong!" He hastily
loops it over his head. However, his head was too big for the chain, the
dog tag resting on his forehead.

"Looks like you need a spacer for your big head!" Rally says. "Turn
around," he made James spin around.

"I could have done that," James says, as Rally unloops the chain, opens the
clasp and reattaches it around James' neck.

"I know you could have James, but it might be the closest I ever come to
touching you!"

Turning back around, James replies, "Okay, get it out of your system."

"Get `what' out of my system?"

"Touch me."

"Touch you? But I don't wanna touch you. You're a married man. Besides, I
don't want to take the chance of my rations of batatas cut down!"

He started to walk away, James snatching up the back of Rally's shirt,
stopping him dead in his tracks, "Y'know that was like the biggest bunch of
bullcrap I've ever heard?"

Then, making it sound like James was going to get something out of this,
Rally not getting an ounce of shellshock, he says, "Okay, if you want me
to, I'll do it just for you James!"

Rally didn't hesitate, the bike dude pulling James shirt right out of his
pants and sticking his hands up underneath. First thing out of his mouth
is, "Oh man, I love all this hair!"

Standing there, hands on his torso, James made out he wasn't getting
anything out of it, saying after about two minutes, "Done yet?"

What amounted to roaming over James' haired chest, tweaking both nips
lightly, planing down his abs trail, a thumb slightly putting a dent in
James' navel, then making his exit, sloppily tucking James' shirt back in,
Rally says, "Done!"

"Done? That's all you wanted to do?"

"Oh no, James. To do what I want to do, we would have to be in a secluded
room and both of us with our clothes off," Rally laughs. He waited though,
just in case there was a possibility James was thinking along those lines
too.

"You know what mama said?"

"There'll be days like this?" Rally recalled from some song his dad used to
listen to.

"Did she?" James asks. "No, I thought she said `never say never?'"

Speaking fast, Rally says, "Did she? I dunno, but I like yours better!"

"Um, think we should get to Atlantis before it closes?"

Rally replies, "Sure, but it like almost never closes."

All this talk and do session he and Rally had finished up, did set him off
a little bit. James was sure when he peeled off his clothes, there would be
a bit of jizz on the inside of his briefs. He smiled, following Rally,
thinking it a little fun. Then, catching up and walking next to him, James
says after a laugh, "Y'know, you got me going so much about this
touchy-feely thing, I almost forgot about Tom."

"Did you tell me if he had a boyfriend?" Rally asks.

"Why? You trying to be my brother-in-law or something?"

"I suppose it wouldn't be so bad, James. At least I would see more of you?"

"Oh?"

"Yeah, besides your furry bod, I think you're a pretty cool guy!"

"You mean to tell me, out of the hundreds of guys here, you haven't found
one you like?"

Rally says, as he holds the door to the main building, "There's a few I've
had my eyes on, but of those, neither of them are the type who want to
settle down."

"You're young. You don't want to play around first?"

Rally, thinking about earlier in the day, "You're with Laurent, yet you and
Samuele had a fling in the shower together?"

"And how would you know something like that?"

Fessing up, Rally replies, "I was leaning on the other side of the wall
with my dick in my hand. Between both you carrying on with moans and groans
and a steal of the action every now and then from around the corner, well
all I can say is, it got my rocks off!"

All James could think of is being snagged, caught with his hand in the
cookie jar or another several phrases of equal meaning. "Did you stay
around long enough to catch me emptying my load down Samuele's throat?"

"Yeah and it surprised me."

"How's that go?" James asks.

"Because I thought Samuele was a strict top. You must be somebody special!"

It worked both ways, James already thinking Rally a special guy. "You know,
I think I could get hard having your tongue my hairy chest?"

"Don't tease, James!"

He would have liked to carry on more conversation, but looking up, as they
walked through the double glass doors of Atlantis, he saw Tom running the
length of the artificial seashore, a hand in the air.

"Hey look James! I've made a new friend!"

He was acting like a little kid, Tom running along, stopping, running back,
turning back around and jogging towards his brother and Rally, the whole
time, some underwater creature following his underwater movement in the
air.

"Cool, huh?" he finally breaks off contact with the sea animal.

"What is it?" James asks.

"A porpoise, but not just any porpoise!"

Tom's way of saying it, James and Rally knew there was a story behind it.

They didn't disappoint Tom, him yearning to tell the story behind the
porpoise and not waiting, "The special thing about Echo is he was born with
one fin."

Rally asks, "He swims awfully good with one?"

"That's the thing. Thor says they had another porpoise which died, so they
cut the extra fin off and sewed it onto Echo. Cool, huh?"

They thought it cool, but for James, the coolest thing was not about the
porpoise. For as long as he can remember, going back over the past five
years or more, Tom hadn't been excited over anything much more than gay sex
and bdsm!

"Here ya go Tommy!"

Sneaking up behind Tom, not which James nor Rally let go by them, seeing
Thor approach them, what did seem weird to James, was watching Thor put his
arms around his brother, engulfing him, then presenting him with a
coconut-filled drink.

"I hope you like it," Thor held the drink, the straw for Tom to
sip. "Good?"

"Mm-m, yeah," Tom replies.

Rally asks, "Got any more of them, Thor?"

James grabs up his dogtag, "Yeah, I can break this in with my first
purchase!"

"Cool, you got yours. I got mine too!"

Enraptured by Tom's porpoise experience and explanation, when James sees
him clutch his dogtag up in a hand, he realizes his brother hadn't had a
stitch of clothing on.

As Rally and Thor head over to the bar, James asks, "It looks like you're
comfortable with your new wardrobe?"

Looking down over himself, the twenty-three year old replies, "I didn't
even think about it. It's like Thor says, once you get used to yourself
running around in the nude, you forget about it. Trust me, James, it didn't
take long!"

Now he's mentioned it, James says, "Looks like you've hooked a nice
specimen?!"

Tom knew who James talked about, but responds, "Who? Thor or Echo?"

"Not at all like his brother, Dutch!"

"Oh that's right. You work for Dutch. What's he like?"

"Truthfully," James says, making landfall with the bar area, "I don't
know. He hasn't been around long enough to find out. He introduced me to
Rally and then vanished!"

"What'll you have, James?" Thor asks, hiding his lower nudity by the bar
counter.

Taking off his dogtag, he says, "I don't know how much I have charged
up. Is there a way you can tell?"

"They start you out with 50 credits. A drink is 5 credits. You do the
math!"

"Never mind," Tom jumps in, "I have tons more credits than you!"

"You do? What did you do to get them?"

Tom replies, "Well, today is my last day working at Atlantis, because
they've arranged for me to go to the habitat college, but Thor says I can
still work some of the time."

"Habitat college?" James seems skeptical. "What are they soaking you for
that?"

"It's free!" Dwelling on how they got mixed up with the scheme to take down
Harrellsson and their venture to Italy, "There's no tuition, but after I
get my degree, like all the other guys, when I get my diploma, I have to
stay on for five years. Then I can choose to go or stay."

Turning to Thor, James asks, "I suppose you've chosen to stay?"

"Frankly," Thor says, "I really like the environment and so far have not
had a reason to desire to leave!"

Joking, Tom says, "What happens if `I' leave, Thor?"

"Now `that' could be a reason!" he laughs.

However, James could see something brewing between the two, the way their
eyes lingered on each other!

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Copyright 2011 T. Chase McPhee

`CoMPany payLoaD' - RancH HanDs may not be sold, nor made part of any
collection, without prior consent from the author.