Date: Fri, 8 Dec 2006 13:44:04 -0800 (PST)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: "ROAD TRIP:  second rescue"

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, nor governmental areas,
which the story is stages. If a sexual scene involving
male-to-male relationships offences 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.

"ROAD TRIP: second rescue"
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

Entering the emergency room of Eskridge General,
Anthony and his entourage followed behind the EMT
crew. They must've been waiting for them, the hospital
adminitrators flocking to greet them, when first
seeing Anthony.

"Mr. Toricelli,"came the first greeting, "we
understood you were on your way."

Another, a tall Rican, maybe in his late forties,
offers, "If there's anything we can do for you."

"You can start by getting outta my face!"

Roberto's lips, rounded like an `o', showing his
reaction to Anthony, pressing by the higher-ups, the
rest in tow.

Not even being acquainted with them, but acknowleging
their concern, Roberto offered, "Anthony's upset. I'm
sure he didn't mean to be like this."

They nodded in the affirmative. With knowing Roberto
for a little over a week, Anthony hasn't had the
opportunity to pour out the history of his family.
However, several times Anthony has come in contact
with the hospital administrator's, both in the public
and private sectors. As when his father was alive, he
knew what ass-kissers they could be. Most likely, if
his father didn't organize an art auction, donating
two of his work himself, the children't wing of
Eskridge General would never have been built. However,
he has admitted, at times, the red carpet service paid
off.

"How is he?" Anthony asked about Nicholas.

"Are you family?"

Being a new doctor on staff, a young whippersnapper,
right out of med school, Anthony hadn't seen him
working here before. He had to read the man's name
right off of the little tin bar.

"Apparently you're new here, but my father..."

"I know who you are and who your father is, but it
doesn't cut it with me. You'll have to wait outside,
like everybody else, Mr. Toricelli."

Anthony was stunned. Only in dire emergencies would he
use his father name. Where Nicholas was concerned,
this was one of those times. Unlike with the hospital
administrators, Roberto thought this also a special
occasion to put away his smile and apologies.

"Y'know, gringo," Roberto using the term, meaning to
put down the young doctor, "you have no right to talk
to Anthony this way. You're supposed to be nice to
people who are hurting" and monopolizing on his
lover's idea, reading the title bar pinned to his
white jacket, recited, "Dr. Basehart!"

Eyeing Roberto up and down, the young doctor, looking
no older than twenty-seven or twenty-eight, pondered
over his decision.

"I'll see what I can find out."

"Thanks."

Roberto didn't automatically hear, as he watched the
doctor slip through the double doors.

With a light whistle, calling attention, Anthony says,
"Did you hear what I said?"

"I heard."

"What'd I say?"

"I don't know," Roberto confesses, turning his
attention to his lover. "What did you say?"

"Never mind."

"Did you see how he was checking me out?"

"I don't know what you have that I don't have."

"Maybe he likes Puerto Ricans more than Italians?"

"Could be."

In no time, Dr. Basehart had returned.

"I'm sorry, but there's not much to say at this point,
other than your friend is resting. Other than a few
bruises on the stomach and... well..."

Obviously, Dr. Basehart was reluctant to discuss
matters lower on the anatomy. Assuming maybe too much,
Roberto spoke more frankly.

"How are his balls?"

"His balls?"

"I think what Roberto is trying to get across, Dr.
Basehart, is we're all men here?"

Then Roberto led the doctor on, "We all know how
sensitive a pair of balls can be."

For the twenty-something doctor, right now his balls
felt a hightened sense of sensitivity, trying
desperately, hand in pocket, to divert the gourging
action. Anthony as well began to forthrightly address
the situation.

"As my lover states...."

"You're," he gulped, "a gay couple?"

Looking at Roberto, then back to Dr. Basehart, Anthony
plainly states, shrugging his shoulders, "I know we
weren't acting the part," he said, forwardly, putting
his hand on Roberto's right shoulder blade, "but we
are, in fact."

"You are too, aren't you?" Roberto boldy adresses the
man in white.

"I'm what?"

"Gay."

"How ridiculous."

Breaking Anthony's attachment off, Roberto steps over
to the doctor. Whereas Anthony could be laidback at
matters, his mate wasn't shy to point out the facts.

"This is a dead giveaway," Roberto replies.

His hand, scooping up Dr. Basehart's mighty endowment,
mashes his balls into his already hard shaft.

Mouth open, in shock, at another guy groping him, Dr.
Basehart stands there, letting him. Either this be the
case or it hasn't registered yet.

"Um, sweetheart," Anthony steps in, "I think you
should.... let go? I mean, anyone could step behind
this screen any second?"

"Oh yeah," Roberto agrees,

Looking to the left, the to the right and over his
shoulder, his hand loosens it's grip. Contrary, to
what could be constituted as both nerve and sexual
harrassment, Dr. Basehart lets out a soft moan.

"He's gay!" both Anthony and Roberto report to each
other, simultaneously.

"You're not... going to.... tell anyone, are you?"

The epitomy of a man, fearful, as if his vital
statistics depended on his big secret getting out, Dr.
Basehart played the part, to the hilt. Only, he wasn't
acting.

"Don't worry," Anthony took the upper hand, "your
secret is safe with us."

Roberto, a bit sorry for his actions, says, "Sorry for
treating your balls like that."

"Um," Dr. Basehart replies, as if he really minded,
"it is not a problem."

"You've got a nice set there."

Anthony rolls his eyes at Roberto's meaty comment,
diverting both minds into a different realm.

"So, how is Randy?"

"Randy? Oh yes. The other young man..."

Still, a tinge of nervous repose, the young doctor
reports his findings, Randy being sedated.

"He will be out for several hours."

"What about his..." Anthony reformulates his words,
"the red stripes, the beating he took?"

"I believe the worst of the pain is over."

Roberto, recalling his own whipping, the occasional
one his brother gave him, for his own good, says, "I
know. It hurt!"

"You... You've been whipped?"

Reaching over his shoulder, hiking up his tee shirt,
halfway up his back, the stringbean points out a spot
on his back.

"See this?"

"Looks like a scar?"

"Excuse me fellas, but can we save show'n'tell for
later?"

Even though his thumb and finger touched Roberto's
back, it was enough to send a jolt through Dr.
Basehart's bod.

"I think I need to go. Excuse me."

With the news of Nicholas and Randy convelescing,
knowing the two out of harm's way, drew a sigh of
relief from the two.

"I think he is going straight to the jon."

"What on earth for?" Anthony plays stupid, answering
sarcastically.

"What do you think? To get rid of the hard shaft,
snaking down his leg!"

Cracking a little smile, Anthony replies, "I know, I
know."

Walking out into the hallway, Anthony spots the
hospital administrator, speaking with the investigator
whom has already been entered as top man, in Anthony's
imaginary `shit list'. When he spots Anthony and
Roberto, he breaks free, walking over to the two.

"I have a couple of questions for you. Maybe we can
grab some coffee?"

Already making himself perfectly clear, his detesting
attitude shows, as Anythony addresses the neatly
attired public servant's suggestions.

"Any questions you have, I can answer right here and
now."

To enforce his statement, both professionally and
personally, Anthony puts his arm up and over Roberto's
shoulder, a sign to Wayne Tucker he's already `taken'
and `not interested'.

"Yeah, well maybe we can wait til later," Tucker
replies, after eyeing up the gay couple.

"Pushy bastard!"

"Exactly my way of thinking, too," Anthony returns
Roberto's assumption.

"C'mon," Anthony suggests, "I have a feeling this is
going to be a long night. I need a cup of coffee!"

Entering the Eskridge General cafeteria, a voice rips
out, "We're over here, guys!"

Parked against the glassed in court yard, Ethan waves
his arm.

"So much for sublety," Anthony states.

As they proceed to the small, round table, Ethan, Sep,
Mario and Dingxiang occupy, a figure cuts across the
intersection.

"Anthony Toricelli?"

Roberto looks in the direction of the voice, as does
Anthony.

"Pablo? What are you doing here?"

Taking Anthony in his arms, Pablo greets Anthony with
a kiss to each cheek. Unintentionally, while his chin
sits on Anthony's left shoulder, his face is keyed
into the person standing next to him.

"And you are?"

"Pablo, meet my other half, Roberto Delgado."

"A pleasure, I'm sure." After Roberto gets the same
treatment, Pablo states, "You sure picked a skinny
one, Anthony."

"Yes, Roberto is quite the `stringbean'!"

Not knowing what to say, Roberto stand there, taking
it as if a comment. One thing he has learned is,
whomever Anthony values as a friend, no matter what
the person says, he's going to act caring towards him.
He didn't exactly care for being called a
`stringbean', by a stranger. However, he felt some
good vibes when Pablo hugged him. Same time, he
wondered about the painting hanging in Anthony's
house, the self-portrait displaying the nude body of
Pablo Aguero, complete with the big cock. His crotch
didn't pick up any `grinding action', a possibility
Pablo wasn't aroused. This wasn't exactly the time,
nor place, Roberto thought.

"Isnt' that right, sweetheart?"

"What?" Roberto questioned, being sucked out of his
hidden thoughts.

"Pablo asked about your interest in the possibility of
going into the food industry."

"Sure."

Anthony went on to speak on Pablo's behalf, one hand
against his back, the other palm patting him on the
chest of his neatly manicured appearance.

"Well, here's your ticket."

"Ticket? Where am I going?" Then adamantly, before
hearing Pablo out, Roberto states, "I'm not going
anyplace where I have to be away from you, Anthony."

"Hardly," Pablo was the first to reply.

"No, no, no sweetheart. You would not be going away."

"No? The way you talked... well, I thought..."

Letting the subject lie dormant, Roberto gave Pablo or
Anthony a cue to continue.
They both did, at the same time, a collision of
details. Pablo continued, with Anthony's signal to
oblige.

"I have an aquaintance, a man by the name of Khodi
Ahkami, whom..."

By the look on Roberto's face, Pablo knew he needed a
more clearer picture of his friend's namesake.

"Sorry."

Roberto then apologized, realizing Pablo knew what he
didn't get.

Smiling, Pablo reiterates, "Khodi and that's with a
`K'..."

"Uh-huh."

"K-h-o-d-i."

"Uh-huh."

"Ah... A-h..kami.. k-a-m-i."

"I get it. Cody Arkrami."

"Close enough," Pablo conceded.

"Hey! Where's Anthony?"

Shooting from left to right, Roberto stands on his
tippee toes to look over Pablo's shoulder.

"Oh, he's over there," he points, "talking with Dr.
Basehart."

Turning back around, the thirty-three year old artist
has a grin on his face. Roberto might not know much
about cooking in the kitchen, but he knows about sex
under the broiler!

"What?"

"Oh nothing."

Hands folded across chest, Roberto is all too wise for
that look on Pablo's face.

"You've been to bed with him, haven't you?"

"He's gay?"

Wise, Roberto replies, "An artist you may be, but an
actor you ain't!"

Stepping closer to Roberto, close enough to step on
his toes, Pablo fills him in.

"Between you and I, he looks good without a shirt, but
that's as far as I got with him."

"Got with him? What do you mean it's `as far as you
got with him'?"

"Awfully shy man. I mean, I didn't plan on seducing
him or anything."

"Uh-huh."

Standing there, like an interrogating father, tapping
a foot, Roberto's look demands more truth of the
matter.

"My first time in the hospital, visiting a friend, I
accidentally mistook the doctor's jon for the public.
And well, Dr. Basehart happened to be getting off duty
and. There he was, stripped down to the waist. I
believe he was coming out of surgery."

"And?"

"Nothing much else. I stated made an error and... I
think he got wise to me eyeing him up and down. What a
hot, chiseled body. It's a shame."

"What is?"

"Too much hair on his chest."

"What's wrong with so much hair on a guy's chest.
Anthony's got lots of hair on his chest and I like
it."

"I know. I mean..."

It hadn't dawned on Roberto, the figures in the
painting, hanging in the hallway at home, it had been
more than a thought, bottled up in an artist's head,
ready to be poured out on canvas.

"You and Anthony made love together?"

"Not the way you're thinking, Roberto."

Pablo, standing there at six feet tall, dark hair,
goatee to compliment the features of his handsome
face, would right away paint the portrait of a
Casanova.

"I'm listening."

Again, the father figure, with the interrogation
stare, made Pablo talk.

"Well, he did pose for me," he spoke rather rapidly,
picking up the pace, "nude, with the occasional break,
but... to put it in plain english, he wasn't
interested."

Realizing instantly the unfolding details, Roberto
relaxed his position.

"Why not? I would be!"

"Really?" Pablo questioned, moving his hand to
Roberto's arm.

"Meaning I could have."

"Oh," is all the artist said, removing his hand.

"Your a couple of years too late. You see, I really
love Anthony a lot and he loves me."

Putting it bluntly, made the issue as clear as spring
water.

"Another one gets away."

"Shit!" Roberto held two fingers over his mouth,
looking about, "I would think a good looking guy like
you would have guys all over ya!"

"Sad, isn't it?"

Having it in mind to confess something, relating to
his lover, they would have to put it off til later,
with Anthony walking back to them.

"News about Nicholas?" Roberto asks.

"Nicholas will be fine, but Randy...."

"What about Randy?"

Pablo stood there, taking in the two-way conversation.

"Doctor Basehart says he'll improve, be back to
normal, except he'll be quite... scarred."

"Nooooo... that's terrible. He's only nineteen years
old. He has his whole life ahead of him."

Roberto could be tough, but when it came to
distressing news, sometimes he could lose it. Right
now, Anthony got a taste of how sensitive he could be,
in caring about another.

"Exactly what I thought. It's the reason I mentioned
cosmetic surgery."

"And?" Roberto asked, with a ray of hope.

"Very possible, but he'll need to see doctors,
starting with a psychologist."

"He's insane?"

It made Anthony reflect a smirk, plus rubbing
Roberto's arm.

"Dr. Basehart doesn't think he's that far gone. He
suggests it as a precaution. When Randy wakes up, he's
going to have to face the reality of the welts across
his chest."

"I feel so bad for him, Anthony."

"Likewise."

Pablo steps aside, as Dr. Basehart descends on the
trio.

"We have a little problem."

"Oh?"

"Yes. It seems Mr. O'Brien..."

"Harris-O'Brien," Anthony corrects him.

"Mr. Harris-O'Brien," Dr. Basehart accepted the error,
continuing, "hasn't any medical insurance, which..."

"I'll cover it."

As he turned the clipboard, to the place where a
signature goes, towards Anthony.

"Very nice of you to do this... sign here."

"Anthony's a saint!" Roberto comments.

"It's going to take a small fortune for his care."

"Oh, don't you worry, Dr. Basehart," Pablo forwards
the information, "Anthony can afford a small fortune!"

It went over Dr. Basehart's head, as Anthony continued
to sign here and there, weeding through several pages
of forms, each being explained. Not thinking about it,
not holding it as a prerequisite in the quotient of
their developing realtionshipe, but now curious,
Roberto wondered about his lover's worth. Suddenly,
Roberto got an eerie feeling, as Pablo stood there,
looking at him.

"You know Anthony's loaded, don't you?"

There was only one person Pablo stared at, out of the
half-a-hundred people lurking about.

"You know, Pablo," Roberto softly spoke, after
stepping closer, starring up into his eyes, "I was
getting to like you, but you just changed my mind!"

Anthony stopped writing, butting in between the two.

"Will you knock it off, Pablo?"

"Just making sure, Anthony."

"Get it through your head once and for all, Pablo. I
can handle my own affairs. Besides, Roberto doesn't
give a damn how much I have in my bank account, so lay
off."

>From Anthony's indignation, Pablo got the message.

"Sorry about all this."

His apology was meant for both Anthony and Roberto.
With Anthony going back to his paperwork, his
attention drew back to Roberto.

"Why did you do that?"

"Why?" Pablo replied to Roberto. More relaxed, he
explains, "Probably because I care as much for
Anthony, as much... almost as much as you do?"

"But..."

"I know what you're going to say. He's got you and I'm
out of the picture. Then again," with a bursting
exhale, "maybe I was never `in' the picture. Um,
excuse me. I have an appointment soon."

As he walked away, Roberto felt troubled. Instead of
malice, his thoughts filled up with sympathy. Later,
he intended on finding out more about all this, not
letting the subject die.

"I'm sorry to be blunt, but the hospital will require
an escow amount of ten thousand dollars."

"No problem."

At the car dealership, Roberto saw how generous
Anthony could be, giving him a gift of a brand new
Volvo SUV, but when he treated the ten grand as if
grocery money, he again wondered how much his actual
worth.

"You can write out a check, just like that?"

"Yes," Anthony replied.

He didn't offer anything more, so Roberto let the
subject disintegrate. It wasn't important enough for
him to pursue, making it an issue which could possibly
cause division in their relationship. He smiled,
pushing such matters aside. Maybe Pablo saw things one
way, but at least Roberto had it set in his mind, he
loved Anthony with his whole heart and not with his
eyes on `Mr. Moneybags'!

%

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.