Date: Sun, 17 Jun 2007 17:15:26 -0700 (PDT)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: ROAD TRIP:  smooth

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:  smooth
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"Well, the weeks have rolled by... time to face
reality!" Standing there at the jon vanity, Anthony
looks in the mirror, shaving the puffy cream off his
face.

>From the shower, Roberto calls out, "Less time for
us."

"I hear ya, but somebody's gotta pay the bills."

Even though Anthony's got a ton of money in the bank,
he's always wanted to do something worthwhile in his
life. Instead of buying his way into the business
world, worrying about profits, board meetings and
other hassles, he got himself an education in the
teaching field. Being his father designed numerous
buildings at Applegate University, it was an easy
shoo-in for him. However, over the last four years he
has been there, he's had a lot of things added to his
credit; overhauling of the workout room, modernized
showering facilities and lockerrooms, and his most
prized possession, the college swim team, which he
organized four years ago and has brought up to
competition stage, proving themselves to be a worthy
asset for Applegate University.

"I'll see you around four?" Anthony says, leaving
Roberto at the door, as he ventures out, on the job.

Meeting Anthony outdoors, Nicholas tosses him the car
keys, shouting, "Heads up, Anthony!"

"Good morning, Nicholas. You surprised me."

"Oh?"

"I figured you would be inside taking care of Randy."

Walking up to Anthony, fixing the collar of his polo
shirt, Nicholas says, "I've been getting your car out
of the garage for you, for the past - what eight? -
years. Besides, Randy is still in dreamland."

"Thanks."

"No sweat," Nicholas calls out, picking up the pace,
running around the other side of the mansion, to gain
entry through the exercise room.

Before he gets in the car, Roberto yells out the
screen door, "Don't forget to look for a job for
Adam!" Waving a hand, signaling he's got the message,
Anthony climbs into his SUV, swings around the
culdesac and heads out the driveway. Making a right,
he drives for ten minutes, then turns left. After
traveling for ten minutes, he spots two dots on the
horizon, flanking the right side of the road. First he
passes them, then steps on the brake, saying to
himself, "I know it's against the rules, but..."
Backing up he pushes the button, unrolling the
passenger side.

"Oh, it's you, Coach Toricelli!" One of them says.

"Need a lift, Barry?"

"Sure could use one," Barry says, asking, "alright if
Larry comes along too?"

"Sure. Why not?" Anthony says, rolling his eyes,
smiling.

Larry tells him, "No, Coach is gonna leave me here for
the next guy that passes by, doofus! Would you believe
we're twins, Coach?"

"Sometimes I wonder, Larry."

Getting ahead of Barry, Larry opens the front
passenger door. Barry slides the side door open and
hops in.

"So, what did you all do this weekend?" Anthony asks
them.

Barry jumps right in with, "Went fishing."

"Yeah," Larry replies, laughing his ass off. "Barry
hooks a big one... pulls him right off the dock, into
the water!"

"At least he could swim," Anthony kids.

"One good thing you've done for us, Coach," Barry
says, leaning over, in between the seats.

"Hey Coach, pull over, when you get up to him," Larry
says, eyes squinting, looking out the dash window.

"When I get up to who?" Anthony asks.

Larry reports, "It looks like Robbie Sinclair and if
it is, he's late to class again."

Slowing down, Anthony says, "That's all I need is some
professor complaining to me his student is always
late, but he never fails to be late to swimming
practice!"

"None of us ever are," Barry shouts from the back
seat.

Without even consulting Anthony, Larry shouts out the
window, "Come on, Robbie. Get in." Also shouting to
the back seat area, "Get the door for him, Barry. Move
over!"

Anthony giggles to himself, thinking he should charge
for carpooling, as the eighteen year old hops in.

"Thanks coach!" Robbie says, a little out of breath
from lugging his backpack up the side of the road.

"For which class are you late?" Anthony inquires.

"Professor Levenson's Psych I class."

"And how many times late does this make it?"

"Um," Robbie answers, gulping, "fourth time."

"Fourth time?" Anthony shouts, showing anger in his
voice. "You know what happens if your late more than
three times. How come Professor Levenson hasn't come
around to talk to me? You know you could get suspended
from the swim team?"

"Really?"

"Don't act so innocent, Sinclair. I told all you boys
the score at the beginning of the semester. I told you
boys, get good grades and be vigilant on attending
classes. You were there, Sinclair, weren't you?"

"Yep Coach."

"So, how come you're not getting there on time,
Sinclair?"

The three eighteen year olds knew Coach Toricelli was
more than a bit perturbed. Larry and Barry Billington
sat there, not saying a word. Robbie spoke up,
speaking in his own defense, "Chores. Y'see my dad had
an accident and can't do all the morning chores, so
I'm elected, or else the farm goes under."

"Chores?" Anthony asks, "Like what kind of chores?"

"Milk the cows, make sure there's plenty of hay,
collect eggs. We're not a big farm, but living off the
land pays the bills. Right now pa's having trouble
getting around. I'm all he's got, to help out."

Hearing of Robbie's unfortunate situation, Anthony
cooled off, asking, "How long do you figure you're
father will be off his feet?"

"Doc says a couple of weeks, but I know pa, he'll be
bouncing back way before that."

"Hmm," Anthony thought, "maybe we can get you some
help." Not choosing Larry, but rather Barry, Anthony
asks, "Barry what do you know about milking a cow?"

"Milking a cow?" Barry questions, scratching his chin.
"I milked one once. You just gotta pull on their
thingees and hope the milk squirts out, right?"

Larry saw where this was going and smiled. Afterall,
ever since the semester has started, he's had a crush
on Robbie. This might be a way to `get to know him
better'.

"I'd be glad to help. Whatever I don't know, I can
learn," Larry comes out with.

"There ya go," Anthony tells Robbie. "Two willing
workers to help you in the morning til your father is
back on his feet."

"Thanks, but what do I do about psych class?"

"After class, go to Professor Levenson, explain your
situation and conclude with the solution."

"Sounds good. Thanks Coach."

About the time Anthony was saying "You're welcome," he
was turning in through the front gates of Applegate
University. For the second time, nobody manned the
little booth, to check out cars coming and going.
Anthony complained, "With what's going on all over the
country, it'd be a shame if an incident occured here
at Applegate, simply because security isn't checking
who comes and goes."

"Good point," Larry told him, forcing the door open.
"You can drop us here. Thanks for the lift."

Barry and Robbie thanked Anthony as well.

"See ya later," Anthony told them, reminding them to
be on time. But it was something he didn't have to
say. Not once has any of his swim team members shown
up tardy. Continuing on his way, Anthony pulled half
way around a circular road, made a left, traveled a
tenth of a mile, then turned into the gynasium parking
lot for faculty members, pulling into his spot marked
with `A. Toricelli'. Before getting out, he reached in
the middle of the seats for his attache case, closing
the door and touching the remote to lock up. It made a
little beep. Going into the gymnasium, he came across
two security guards, leaving.

"Problem?" Anthony asked. He hadn't seen these two
security officers around, but Applegate was a
widespread environment.

One of them said, "Pool alarm went off early this
morning. We checked it out. Nothing, so we'll have the
security company out here today to check it out."

While Anthony was standing there, talking to them, he
thought he'd hit them up for a job for Adam. "By the
way, do you know if there's any openings in security?"
Coming forward, the tall blond officer recollected
hearing something in the way of a part time opening.
Anthony thanked them, sending them on their way. He
thought part time wasn't much for a breadwinner, but
at least Adam would get his foot in the door.

"Hey Coach Torricelli! Business class was cancelled,
can we workout?"

Thinking to himself, Anthony gathered his dirty
thoughts, eyeing Starke Richter up, thinking to
himself about the twenty year old, `sure, I think we
could workout', but instead gave permission, "Sure,
but the pool is off limits just now."

"Oh, no problem Coach Torricelli. Ah, Jim Stoan will
be around in a few minutes to spot for me. Could
you...."

"I'll send him downstairs."

As Anthony watched Starke walk off, towards the
lockerroom, he always wondered about Richter and
Stoan, wondering about them always meeting on and off
campus. At swim practice, Jim was always leaning on
Starke's shoulder. Maybe he was just guessing, but he
had his suspicions about them and some others on the
swim team.
Reporting to his office, a key in the door, who comes
by, but Jim Stoan.

"Hey Coach, Jim greeted him. "Have you seen Starke?"

"He's waiting for you to spot for him, in the exercise
room."

Not stopping to chat, in fact hurrying up his pace,
Anthony watched the five foot, nine inch tall twenty
year old swimmer rush off to the lockerroom. As he
entered his room, a flock of girls, on the lacrosse
team, walked past his room, on the way to the
lockerroom, greeting him with `good morning'.
Cordially, he offered the same greeting back, but
lacked any interest in following them with his gaze.
Looking across the room, more interest was stowed in
his eyes of the coffeemaker. Turning towards the
gadget, he removed the coffee filter.

"I take care of that, Coach!"

Walking right into the small office, one of
Applegate's foreign students drifts in.

"Oh, thanks Mik."

Mik Vysotsky replies, "You know I make best coffee!"

Turning to his desk, Anthony agrees, "The best," yet
he hasn't figured out how Vik turns regular coffee
grinds into a deluxe cup of mellow coffee.

A mirror on his desk, utilized to groom his hair,
Anthony looks over the sleek nineteen year old, his
back to him. Before he's in a snag, he looks down at
some paperwork. "What?" Anthony says out loud,
questioning what he sees on the paper.

"You talk to me coach?" Mik says, carafe in hand,
ready to fetch the water.

Not intentionally ignoring Mik, Anthony says, "They
can't do this!" Immediately Anthony is on the phone
with transportation.

"What is the problem, Coach?" Mik questions, as he
pours water into the coffeemaker.

Still he gets no answer, except for when somebody
picks up on the other end of the phone, Anthony jumps
in with, "Art, what is this crap about a bus sitting
eight guys?"
There's a lull, then Anthony saying, "You know I have
fourteen guys on the swim team?... You know? Then
what's with the short bus?... All you've got? Other
trips? But I had my request in two months ago!"
Anthony exits the conversation, hanging up the phone
abruptly with no `goodbyes'. "Now what are we gonna
do?" Sitting there, tapping his pencil on the desk,
Anthony realizes the six foot two, blond Russian is
standing, eavesdropping over his shoulder, reading the
memo.

"No problem, Coach," Mik says.

"With?"

"The short bus," Mik tells him. "Us guys can take our
cars."

"Thanks for your concern, Mik, but things aren't that
easy."

"No?"

"Y'see, we have to take a college bus, for insurance
reasons."

"Then we stuff all of us in, like.... like sardines?"

Staring at his paper, Anthony ponders, returning,
"I'll have to think about this."

Before leaving the office, Mik is pouring Anthony a
cup of java. He reaches into the cube refrigerator for
the milk.

"I can do that, Mik."

"Nope," Mik replies, "you have us guys to think about,
Coach. I think about you."

Anthony wondered about the whole gist of Mik's
concern. He wondered if Mik knew he had a lover, if
the Russian student would think twice about being so
cordial. At least Anthony's gaydar was picking up on
some strange vibrations, where otherwise he thought of
Mik as being totally straight.

"Um, you better hustle, Mik. Thanks for the coffee."

With a `you're velcome', Mik departed company, heading
off for the lockerroom. For the next five minutes,
swim team members bid him good morning, Anthony
tossing out, "Hustle!" in lieu of a formal greeting,
at which the guys would pick up their pace. At one
point, Anthony looked up, catching one of the students
walking by.

"Hey, Berg?"

"Yeah?" Joshua Berg stopped dead in his tracks.

"Um, have you checked lately to see if you need a
shave?"

Pulling his tee shirt at the collar, the eighteen year
old swimmer looks down into the space between the
fabric and his bod.

Out of Josh's mouth comes, "Oops! Can one of the guys
to do me?"

"Take your pick."

"Now?"

"After?"

"You got it Coach!"

Picking up the pace, Josh Berg hightailed it, bursting
through the lockerroom door. Immediately he stripped
off his tee shirt, showing a light covering of dark
hair over his pecs and stomach. "Where's Jeff?"

One of the guys, Sean Duffy, points to the back of the
lockerroom, saying, "Coach catch you again?"

"I can't help it," Josh shouts, "the fuckin' hair
grows so fast!"

Proceeding to the third row of lockers, Josh
reiterates, "Where's Keyser?"

As if he didn't know where to find Jeff, he stands
there, in his briefs, asking, "What's up Josh?"

"You gotta shave me again. Coach's orders."

"Now?"

"After practice."

"Damn, it's been practically once a week! Why can't
you be smooth like me?"

"Smooth, Jeff?" Josh questions, looking down at his
navel.

"Okay, so I got a trail. Some luck. I get stuck with a
bear!"

"If you're complaining about it, Keyser, I can get
Coach to switch me to a different partner?"

"No way," Jeff says, "and hear it from Coach?"

With teamwork one of the highest statutes on the swim
team's roster of rules and regulations, the guys know
not to enter any complaints, working out any
grievances they may have, among themselves. It's just
been Jeff's luck he gets stuck with a guy's chest and
stomach sprouting hair almost as soon as it's shaved.
Jeff's grief has been trying to keep his loins in
check, from sprouting a woodie while doing the deed.
He knows that sooner or later it's going to be too
tough to keep his secret, wondering how he's going to
talk himself `out', wondering what he's going to say
to Josh.

%

2B continued...

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