Date: Mon, 25 Sep 2006 09:36:32 -0700 (PDT) From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com> Subject: ROAD TRIP souvenirs 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 souvenirs wriTten by T. Chase McPhee % "You're not mad at me, are you Anthony?" As I looked in the rearview mirror, zeroing in on the back seat, I smiled. "No, I suppose not." "Like me, I think you took a chance." "Oh? How's that go now, my love?" I caught the upturned lips, before he spoke, knowing it to be my term of endearment, provoking it. "You only knew me for a day and took the chance of taking me home. Hell, you still are taking a chance." My hand left the steering wheel, caressing his, as I said, "I hardly doubt that!" Roberto caught my drift, leaning left-wards, straining his stringbean bod against the strangling seatbelt, to give me a peck on the cheek. From the back seat, hands on the corner of mine and my lover's seat, a voice states, "I gotta take a leak!" My love says, "Control yourself, Ethan or Anthony's going to be sorry he invited you along!" "Me?" I questioned. Didn't we just go through this, about Roberto inviting them along, asking me if I was upset with him, over it? But rather than answering, I spotted a service station. "I think we need to fill up." "Hey, Randy!" Ethan nudged his companion out of sawing wood. "Wha?" the half-knocked-off twenty year old responded, barely awake. "Last pit stop," I answered, "for the next forty miles!" As we closed the gap between the open road and pumps, my love signals us. "Food!" Parking in front of the pumps, the three piled out. "Ooooooh, my poor legs," Ethan complained. Randy wasn't much different, what with being crunched up in the back of my Lexus, with all they owned in the world, of value. I laughed, as Roberto `caught' Randy, falling out the door almost, his `sleeping' legs not working properly. Ethan commented, as if jealous, "Hey! Watch the hands Roberto!" "Well, if you had left your rock collection, you two wouldn't have to stuff your bodies in there!" "It's not a rock collection. I told you how much I paid, two grand for that set of power block dumbells. Like I'm going to leave them behind?" Waiting for the attendant to fill the tank with gas, my crotch tingled. Man, would I love to tame Ethan's attitude! However, I think Roberto handled it pretty well. "Your attitude sucks, Ethan. All I said was something simple. I don't need to take your shit. It's not like we're back at the hotel, playing some role game. Here I stuck my head out, trying to help you out and all you give me is a bunch of crap?" Randy shrugged his shoulders, regaining his own footage, as Roberto stopped his support. "Did I come on that strong?" He questioned Randy. Looking over the top of the car, Randy caught my gaze. I nodded a strong `yes'. "Yeah." Unlike their roleplay, Randy stated it like it is, of course, based on my gesture, "I'd say on a scale of one to ten, you fucked up big time!" I smiled, but I'm sure the eighteen year old, still in the back seat, climbing out, took his time, digesting Randy's response. The two ducked in the side of the building, adjoining the service station bays. I paid off the attendant, looking past the pumps. "Hey, how much you asking?" He seemed puzzled. "Oh, for the SUV... hee heee... it's been there so long, I forgot... I mean.." As slow as he pumped gas, the apparent owner, on in his years, gave away the partial age of the black minivan. "Want to take a look?" For now he avoided the going price. "Sure." Actually, I thought him to be a sincere, nice person. Not at all pushy. He gave me the age of the vehicle and then started in on some tall tales, explaining the territory `shes' seen, up north, out west and one trip, bringing him within a hundred miles of Buffalo, New York. "Yeah, she's seen some bumpy roads, but never once quit on me." "Then why sell....'her'?" "Truth is... um, I don't reckon this will bother ya any, seeing that..." He motioned his head towards my car. "Them boys," he then referred, "one of them uh, `with you'?" I thought for a second, my tongue in cheek, seeing if what the old geezer was driving at, is the same thing my gay reception, picked up on. I decided to chance it. After all, looking to be in his fifties, kind of the frail side, I didn't picture him beating me to a pulp. "The Latino. My partner. Why?" "Hey, you care for a beer? On the house?" "I don't drink and drive." "Oh." He wasn't an old relic, but I figured he had a story or two to tell. On his face and in the way he talked, I sensed a feeling of loneliness. "But if you have a cool bottle of water, I'll take you up on it!" Placing his hand out, he acknowledged my order, offering, "Bob Winslow." "Tony Toricelli," I replied. I then caught myself. I used the bear's nick, for myself! Bob confirmed my own feelings, "Nice ring to it!" "Thanks," I cheerfully replied. Entering the service station office, I expected to find maps all over the joint, dustballs, maybe some tumbling tumbleweeds. Instead the desk, counters, looked to be more immaculate than a general hospital. "Nice place," I remarked. However, he didn't stop there. We walked right on through the outer office, into the back. "This is convenient!" If I didn't venture through the office portion of the near desert hub, I wouldn't have felt the immediate transformation, from business to pleasure. "Nice, very nice. And decorative!" I know I seemed lost for words, but looking around the spacious room, I geniunely was taken aback by the splendor of the design. "Yep. My former partner and I always talked about having to spend time traveling to and from work, so we decided to make a mutual combination of both." "Wise decision," I stated. Then, from a side door, I heard the familiar tone of voice, with a knock, "Hey, anybody around?" "Come in! Welcome!" I suppose I had been the emissary, breaking the ice between `stranger' and `friend', as I introduced my lover and friends, made over the past few days. After introductions, my love opened up with, "We wondered if there was anybody working the grill?" "That would've been my Sam." "Sam?" Roberto asked. We all had been curious, me especially, having more insight than the other three. Looking to me first, Bob replies, "Sam worked the grill, until he um..." "That's alright, Bob. I'm guessing he's not around. We can just accept it as that." Bob then admitted, "Sam passed away last winter. Pneumonia." Even though a stranger; new friend, we shared in his grief. Out of his experience, him telling us like it is, I found out something more about my love. Lots more. Approaching the fifty-six year old, he hugged him! Why did I think that different? Up until now, every man we've met, just about, he's renewed his protein supplement! "It's okay Bob. Same thing with me." "Huh?" I said shockingly. Thoughts like, did Roberto have a serious committment recently? However, in the following minutes, he ironed out the situaion for us all. "My brother," he turned to me, remarking for my benefit, "not Miguel," with a slight smile, sank back into seriousness, "Ricki..." with remorse, adds, "same thing." With soft repose, Ethan surprised me, Randy, Roberto himself, with a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. How old?" I would have liked to have my lover's head sunk to his chest, buried in our own little huddle, but for now I suppose Bob and he shared something mutual. "Forty-one. It was so hard to let go." I approached. My senses told me not to let Bob hog all of Roberto's grief. He graciously turned my lover over to me. Like he offered me a bottle of water, he offered everyone, "How about some lunch? On the house!" Randy and Ethan followed Bob back into the kitchen, not the public one, but Bob's personal cooking space. "Are you alright?" "I'm fine." I kissed him on the forehead. "There's a lot we have to learn about each other, huh?" I offered. "Yeah." Then looking the whole inch up, into my face, studying me, he says, "I want to share my life with you." "I thought that's what moving in together meant?" His answer came in caressing me once again, holding onto my shoulders. I felt his soft, wet lips, kissing my skin, between the V-neck of my polo shirt. "I like this, too!" It drew a smile. One I felt he knew I would appreciate. "And what brought this on?" "Ron." "Ron?" I questioned. "Yes, well. Being that I don't have much hair on my bod, except the little wisps around my nips, stripe down my stomach, the rest..." I knew he meant pits, pubes, forearms, legs, and the little bit up his ass. "Well, I want you to know, I really dig yours here," his fingers pawed the `V', "and..." His hand went up, under my shirt, his flat palm rubbing against my stomach, the mass of hair swirling around my navel, above my belt line. "Um, if you point out anymore, I think my crotch is going to get strangled by my pants!" "I can help with that." "Yes, but in front of our guest?" He laughed. "What?" "Nothin', only...." "Only what?" "I have a feeling Bob would be cool with it." "Yeah, right," I contested. "I'm not kidding." "In a few minutes, you can tell that about him?" "Sure. I think Bob can be an uninhibited, cool guy. I mean look, here he lives out in the middle of nowhere, by himself?" "As far as we can tell, yes." "I think he's a sweet old man." "Old man, eh? Wait til we're his ripe old age of fifty-something." "Okay. So he's not old," Roberto reneged on his original estimate. "Well, shall we go and see what the others are cooking up?" "One thing, Anthony." "What?" "You're not mad at me for inviting Ethan and Randy along are you?" "Um, at first I was. I mean, what were you thinking?" After I said it, I kind of regretted it, seemingly putting the blame on my lover for doing, without asking. Along with the downer, his eyes looking down, as if at my meat, he mopes, saying, "I just thought that maybe we could help them out, you being a big shot coach, at the college and all. That's all." The expression on the face got to be second, after the soft, caring voice. I couldn't help but smile. "You're okay with it then?" Patting him sofly on the ass, as if a lite spank, I warned, with a smile attached, "Yeah, but don't let it happen again!" "I won't." I had to check to make sure he didn't have his fingers crossed. "How do you know my toes aren't crossed, Anthony?" "Toes don't count, so don't push your luck!" As we walked in the direction of voices, I know I kept mumbling about the pair's welfare; habitats, food, college essentials like books and other college frat's needs. My love kept saying, "I know," every two feet, but offered no other solutions. Finally, our senses picked up on garlic, frying in oil. "Where's Randy?" I inquired, not seeing him. Ethan turned away from a cutting board, a knife and carrot in his hand, looking to Bob's waist. "Don't tell me!" I said. Peeking over the counter, our bellies right up to it, we both saw Randy, stripped naked, kneeling, hands voluntarily clasped behind his back. "Hey, this is great, Tony! You didn't tell me one of your boys was a slave!" "News to me," I said half out loud. I looked to Roberto, so sure there would be a request approaching, but it didn't materialize. Taking one more glance at Randy, kneeling there, his mouth up to Bob's crotch, as Bob worked at the counter. "What?" My love asked me. Pulling on his arm, dragging him out of earshot, I questioned, "How come you're not volunteering?" "Do you want me to volunteer, Anthony?" I was perplexed, to say the least and he knew it. "Look," he began to explain, then kept silent. "What?" And then, as Roberto has shocked me out of my gourd, more than once, he dashes over to the counter, asking, "Hey Bob, you have an extra bed we can use?" "As long as you're not taking away my cockersucker, sure." He nodded, "Up the stairs. Any room except the one at the end of the hall." "Your's I take it?" Roberto answered, as I closed in on the answer. "Yeah and I think I'm going to be up late tonight!" The wink got me. Got my curiosity going. Roberto too sensed something amiss. I frankly pried, "I think we missed something here, Bob." "Ethan here," Bob answered. it still didn't enlighten us. So, I turned to Ethan. He blushed, like he was embarrassed. "Okay. What?" I grilled Ethan. "Um, y'see. Well..." Suddenly Randy, still the mouth hold on Bob's cock, made a big slurping sound. "Excuse yourself!" Bob replied. "Excuse me." Don't ask me. I'm not sure what happened. One minute I'm getting this pissed off attitude, ready to go off on Ethan, then next Roberto and I are laughing our asses off. "What's so funny?" Bob asks us, straight-faced. We cooled our jets real quick. I keyed him into, "Um, you and Randy there. I just thought... We thought.. well..." Bob not thinking it hilarious, made us catch on. He offered the explanation, "Your slave here apparently has had little training. Very little respect and.." "Wait a minute Bob. Time out?" I signaled, like stopping a sports match, the all too familiar hand sign of a `T'. His eyebrows more or less said `what's up?'. Before I could get it out, he had out, "You see, my beloved Sam, was my slave, in a gentle sort of way." I tried not laughing, waiting for Bob's explanation. Wherever Bob walked around, in the kitchen, Randy followed. I wondered if his knees would be skinned. He kept the tight little pose, shoulders erect, hands clasped behind his back. The whole time, Ethan stood there, making little progress with cutting the carrots into neat little rounds, following our conversation. "Sam? Your slave?" Roberto and I stood attentive, following Bob's story of he and the man, known as Sam, stopping by for gas over twenty years ago. By the end of his story, I gaged it worthy of some type of award, perhaps something Oprah would conjure up. "That's the sweetest story I ever heard, man," Roberto replied, grabbing a napkin, using it to dab his eyes. Sure, it was a melancholy moment, but it didn't drive me to tears. But, I didn't hesitate to take my love into my arms and hug him. Finally Ethan added something to the conversation. I thought it might be that he was `selling' Randy to Bob, but my assumptions were unfounded. "Bob's giving me some good pointers." "Oh, so when we get back to civilization, you're going to turn Randy into your slave. Is that it, Ethan?" I don't think Ethan was entirely sure. "If he wants to... I mean, I never thought about it, but...." Maybe Bob thought Randy could add something meaningful. Taking the nineteen year olds blond, shaggy haircut in his hand, he pulled Randy off his meat. "What's your feelings, boy?" Shrugging his shoulders, Randy replies, "I think it could be kind of cool!" He then throws in, "Hey, Roberto, you're missing out. Bob tastes real good!" Unlike my reaction to Ron, I know my face showed the big shaft sticking out of Rob's part in his pants. Roberto asks, point blank, "Um, have you got the balls to match?" `That' sent Bob a-reeling, laughing his ass off. Midway, his clutching of Randy's hair, drove his mouth back into action. "Real good cocksucker he's getting to be, too. I've gotta run down to the freezer. Why don't you take over, Ethan?" The two of us watched, as if a circus, in full swing, Ethan set the knife down, catching the little rounds of carrots, as they rolled all over the wooden cutting board. Randy made an about face, wincing, apparently grinding his kneecaps into the linoleum, but not complaining, his hands still clasped behind his back. We paid attention to the drama, as Bob headed off out of the room, Ethan ordering, not as forceful as Bob, "Unzip me, um boy." Randy did what he was told. "Maybe you could do that with me, Anthony?" Already I knew my lover's ways. Pestering would get him anyplace. "I'll think about it," I replied, grabbing his arm and heading for the stairs. "So, we're spending the night?" "I suppose so. I had hoped to get home by tomorrow." "You're not mad at Ethan and Randy, are you?" I sensed, as we reached the top of the wooden staircase, maybe the two's action, would reflect on Roberto, as he saw it. I wanted to settle the score now and forever. "Look, my love...." He smiled. I knew why. "I'm not angry for you inviting them along." "You said that already, Anthony." "I know I did. But I want to reinforce the issue." As I explained, I'm not sure how much he was listening, looking into two rooms so far. I'm not sure, what piqued our interest, be it all the rooms open, except for the one at the end of the hall, but we now stood in front of it. "So, whatever Ethan and Randy do from here on in, is of their on volition." "Their what?" "Volition." "Never heard of it," he stated, then alluded to, "I wonder what's so secret that Bob has to keep the door closed." "Secret?" "Yeah." "Maybe he's a slob and doesn't want others to see that he is?" "Do you mean to tell me, Bob invites his customers up here all the time?" "Um, no," I reckoned, adding, "but if he's gay, and a certain customer strikes him, he might just..." My love got my drift. "I guess." We turned, Roberto leading us away from the room. However I didn't follow. "What, Anthony?" "Nothing." As I walked to him, our bods collided. My turn to question, "What?" "Nothing," he replied. "Liar!" I smiled. He did too. Without speaking it, we both knew curiosity was killing us. As I slowly opened the door to Bob's bedroom, our eyes shared it's contents, astounding us both. "Bedroom?" I questioned. "Weird looking bed," my love assessed. I handled a wrought iron chain, looking up to see it attached to a hook in the ceiling, ruled by a winch to the side. My love, running his hand over a soft, leathery, padded table, asks, "Do you think this is real leather?" "Um, that wouldn't be my concern," I let him know. As I relayed my feelings, I picked up one of the leather cuffs, finding it attached to the corner of the table. "Hey, Anthony?" "What?" "Come here." "What?" I asked, approaching another piece of apparatus. "What's this for?" I watched as he fell backwards, onto a piece of leather, supported by four chains. "Hmm. Seems strange to have a hammock inside. You'd think Bob would want it outside, to relax in the sun." Little did we know what the sling's purpose is. Being extremely nosy, Roberto opened the closet door. "Aicheewowwa!" "I thought you didn't speak Spanish?" However, I didn't press the issue, looking at the inside of the closet door. Not your ordinary broom closet. Inside, instead of clothes hanging on hangers, shelves lined the interior. "I saw Miguel with one of these." Okay, so I didn't know the hammock was a sling, but I did know the large, bulbous object was called a buttplug. I had seen a few, in the gay magazine. "Oh my!" I said. Roberto exclaimed, "This is wider than a can of Dr. Pepper!" I didn't refute the fact. In fact, when he held up a wide, black dildo, I equated it with being as wide as his leg! "Anthony?" "Yeah?" "I suddenly don't feel so hungry." I began getting bad vibes myself. Not only for myself, but for the others. "What do you say we find another cafe, up the road, to eat at?" "I'd feel better about that, myself," I gulped, after picking up a long, thick piece of leather. "Although," Roberto states, "'that' could be fun, no?" I gave him the evil eye. I shouldn't have done it, meaning `stealing', but folded the leather implement up, emptying out the few contents of my pants pocket, handing them to Roberto and stuffing the leather into my pants. "Do you think he's going to miss it?" "With all the other ones?" Straps, all varying shapes, lengths, widths, hung on the back of the closet door, some coiled up neatly, lying on a shelf, alongside buttplugs, dildos, little clasps on ends of silvery chains. "Maybe you should offer him a couple of bucks for it, Anthony?" Looking at the twenty or so, the assortment, plus other apparatus, I replied, "I will. When the opportunity arises." "I suppose. So, are we going or staying?" "The place gives me the creeps. Let's book!" We hightailed it outta the room, down the creaky, wooden staircase and into the kitchen. As we hustled, I fixed in my mind the excuse for leaving. "Um, Bob?" "Yeah, Tony?" I heard Roberto say under his breath, "You look like an `Anthony'." I wasn't out for playing the `name game' right at the moment. "Listen, it just occured to me. We've gotta be home by no later than tomorrow. If we stay, we'll never make it." "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." `Hmm', I thought, `Bob seems sorry in a sort of uncomfortable way.' "Yeah, with all the excitement of meeting you and everything, well, I plum forgot!" I was hoping he was buying it. "You know what's best, Tony." Twice, he eyed up my pants pocket. I wondered if he was catching on or he thought I had an untamed erection! Panic began to clench my nerves, when he came closer. He touched the right side of my jeans. Roberto tried to cover for me, saying, "Yeah, um... Anthony got hard before we got to our room. Right Anthony?" "Um, yeah. That's it." It wasn't working. "I can't believe I extended my genorosity to you folks and... never mind." I'm not sure what Roberto felt, but I sensed what a big jerk I am. If I wanted something, I should have held it in my hand, in plain sight, right away offering Bob some loot. Or, how hard would it have been to find a thick strap at some leather goods store, or even online, at a leather site? "Here," I said, pulling the leather strap out of my pocket, it unraveling. "Sorry, Bob," My love shared the guilt. "I don't know what to say, Tony." "Nothing much else to say, Bob. I was planning on offering you something for it." "Take it." "What?" "If you want the strap, just take it." Ethan and Randy stood there. That was part of the humiliation. "At least let me offer to pay for it." I must've grabbed Bob's attention, as I took out my wallet. "How much you want for it? Fifty bucks? A hundred?" "Oh, I couldn't take money. We don't handle things like that." I looked at Roberto. He looked at me. "You don't?" "No. With Sam, well any of us." "Us?" "Yes, well I'm not the only one in these parts who have retained a slave." "Is that so?" "Yes. Anyway, if you want to have the strap, you will have to pay for it, in the way I prescribe." I wasn't into taking drugs, other than Alleve. "How would that go?" "Well, as I see it, if you don't purchase the strap, I'll have to... maybe make a call to the sheriff?" Suddenly, my calm, fraternal thoughts about Bob being a nice guy, became tossed to the side. "Sheriff, you say?" "I hoped I wouldn't have to have it come to this, but you're putting me in an awkward position, Tony." I didn't have a good feeling about this. "So, let me get this straight. If I don't take this along with me, I'll be accused of stealing?" He nodded in the affirmative. "So, what could you possibly want, if not money?" "You're... hide?" "My what?" "Well, it cost me two hundred bucks several years back. I figure, with depreciation, you owe me forty lashes." Either I didn't get it or didn't want to get it. Roberto got it, but objected to getting the idea he was putting forth. "You're not whipping Anthony. C'mon, Anthony." Taking the thick leather strap out of my hand, he let it flop to the floor, coiling up at the fifty-six year old's feet. "Get dressed, Randy," Roberto adamantly `ordered'. He complied. "Then I better get on the phone with the sheriff?" Walking away, I stopped dead in my tracks. I turned, walking back, confronting him, saying, with a smirk on my face, "Like he's going to believe you, with three witnesses?" Bob's belly, almost touched mine, walking up to me, standing in front of me, his goatee almost touched my chin. I could feel his breath on me, as he talked, the niceness eaten away by his manly demeanor. "The sheriff's my brother!" I know my mouth formed a big `O'. I began to rethink my thinking. Even if I didn't have to be home for two more days, instead of the next, I thought that a legal hassle of this proportion, relating to the law and his next of kin, could not only put a damper on my return, but the explanation to `why'. I didn't like it one bit, but I knew he had me. "So, what's it going to be Tony?" I mulled it around a bit, staring into his eyes. He wasn't budging. I looked around, at my audience, Randy now fully dressed. "Don't let him bully you, Anthony." I wasn't. Then it crept into my mind, implications, regarding the other three. I slowly began to fess up to my stupidity, in trying to take the damn thing. My realization began to solidify my self-incrimination. "How do you want me?" He grinned, a big, toothy grin. "Out back. Strip off your shirt." "Nooooooooooooooooooooo!" Roberto came over, between us, defending me, shooting his mouth off, rattling off, "Listen you fuckin' dirtbag, why don't you take the forty bucks and..." I wanted to deck the son-of-a-bitch right then and there, as the back of his hand flew in the air, across Roberto's face, knocking him clear sideways, his stringbean body winding up on the floor. My flying fist caught him in the gut. "C'mon. We're outta here." As the fifty-six year old got up, as if a bullet only grazing him, he called out, "You wouldn't get but five minutes up the road and the whole county sheriff's department'll be on your ass!" My hand was on the doorknob. "And I can guarantee ya it wouldn't go easy on your friends, neither!" I stopped dead in my tracks. I knew Bob could carry out his threats. This wasn't justice, but in a way, I had nobody to blame, but myself. Why should others have to suffer, on my behalf? He was out for vengeance and wouldn't be satisfied until he took what was due. As I turned around, I hefted my polo shirt up and over my head. "Noooooooo, Anthony!" I stopped Roberto from interferring this time. "It's gonna be alright." Although, I wasn't sure, when I got out back of the station, Bob leading us there. Pounded into the ground, two tall, wooden posts stood. Attached to each, a lone leather cuff followed it's course to a metal chain. I tossed my shirt to Roberto, saying, "Hold this for me. I'll be right back." "Anthony, please don't," He pleaded. I wish it could help, but I knew it didn't do any good. I walked up to the two posts. "Stand here," He directed, me, my barechested body between the two posts. Allowing him to take my right arm, he lifted it, affixing one of the leather cuffs to it. My eyes followed the grinning face to the other side, lifting my left arm, fastening the cuff around my other wrist. It seemed like it took him eternity, to buckle it. Then, he turned a winch. I thought, `what a setup, precision', as both chains moved, drawing my limbs up and outwards. I winced, as my toes became the only thing holding me up. Bad enough that the sun beat down on me, than having to sweat it out with the time passage. He was playing me for all I was worth. To make it more sensational, adding to my fear, he announced, "Punishment; forty lashes across your back." He tortured my mental capacties, handling the strap with precision, making it crack in mid-air. I could hear my love crying out for me, cursing Bob. "Akkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!Ooooooooooooooohshiiiiiiiit!" It's as if I had earplugs, playing my own screams into my ears. Worse, was the pain, as the strap caught me clear up my back, midway from the left, to my right shoulder blade. "Fuckin' get on with it!" I cried out, as he waited too long between the first lash and second. He didn't hold back, as the second one landed across my back, wrapping around my body. After I had cried out for what seemed eternity, I looked down. "Shit!" I said to myself, seeing a bright, red welt, clip me, under my right nip. My body sweated profusely. It's then I heard a commotion behind. "Get off me boy, before I finish the punishment off on you!" I could manage to look over my shoulder. "Stop it now!" I called to my love. A short pause prevailed. "It's not going to be over until the bastard's had his fun!" "You got that right, `boy'," not `Tony', he called me, "and I'm gonna remember that remark, for the next thirty-eight!" "I don't think so, mister!" I expected the strap to be pounding over my shoulder, maybe wrapping all the way around to my chest or stomach, but instead all I heard was scuffling, coming from behind. "What the fuck is happening?" I heard fists flying, somebody yelling, Randy I think, "Get'em Ethan!" "Will somebody tell me the fuck what's happening?" My reply didn't come vocally, not right away, as I heard that squealing sound, the winch turning. I groaned in pain, my body coming back together, as my arms slacked. "What tha?" "Anthony, Ethan saved you!" "Saved me?" "Yeah." For now, I was more concerned with my `stringbean' lover, taking up the slack of my 6', 205 pound body, as Randy's winch action made me go slack. "Does it hurt?" An understatement, until, falling to my knees, my appreciation showing, as his `electric' arms, encased me, the sentiment flowing. "Ooooooooh, Anthony," the worry showed through, "are you alright?" It was only two lousy lashes across my back, not forty, for crying out loud, but to him, his carrying on made it like forty lines crisscrossed my back. I so appreciated his caring, his kissing. Right then and there, if I had any doubt, all had been erased, as he kissed me, held me. "You okay, Anthony?" Ethan asked, his clothes all dusty, dirty. I winced, as I turned. "I'm.. oooooh, fine. What tha?" Ethan smiled, informed me, "All those years in the Boy Scouts, paid off!" Sure enough, Bob looked as if a Japanese bondage master worked him over with ropes. "Anthony, I just couldn't stand to see him whip you." "No regrets, I assure you, my love. Thanks Ethan." The three of them helped me up, Randy slapping my shirt on his knee, to rid it of the ground in dirt. "I had it in my hands and then it wasn't in my hands," my love tried apologizing about my dirty shirt. "Hey, I'm just glad the three of us are out of here." "Oh, one last thing." I knew they thought I was crazy, but walking over to Bob, I took out my wallet, threw $38 on his stomach and picked up the strap. "I wish I could say it was a pleasure doing business with you, Bob..." At a disadvantage, Ethan, stuffing a piece of cloth in his mouth, I'm sure I wouldn't miss the curses, as evidenced by his throat noises, his thrashing about, as if an alligator on dry land. As we approached the back of the station, I yelled back, "And oh, thanks for the lunch... don't get up. We'll just help ourselves!" With my stripes, the shirt gnawing at them, it's any wonder I could laugh, but I did. I had no regrets swiping his cellphone and having Ethan use the `carrot knife' to sever the phone lines. Two boxes had been big enough to nearly empty his fridge, plus I had Randy raid the freezer. While there, he found an ice chest next to the it. How convenient! "You think he's going to come after us, Anthony?" Randy asked, as we pulled out of the station. "Nah. I think by the time we get over the state line, make a call to his brother, plus he doesn't know from Adam, where we're from, well, I think we can consider this case closed." Ethan awarded me with the idea, adding some pointers, "Good one, Tony. Yeah, call his brother. Wait til he finds his own brother tied up in the back yard. Pure humiliation!" The only one whom seemed disappointed is Randy. When we stopped at an octagonal, red sign, bearing the STOP, I reached down on the floor and picked up the dreaded strap. Letting it flop over, into the back portion of the car, I said, "Here Ethan. A little souvenir for ya and thanks for saving my hide!" Randy's eyes followed the leather whipping tool. "Oh, it was nothing Anthony." "Nothing? Believe me, Ethan. If you hadn't hogtied Bob, I'd've been chopped liver." Roberto sorta corrected me, "You mean flayed mignon?" I smiled. How cute! "Owch!" "You still hurt, baby?" I did, but his namesake for me, made me melt. How sweet, I thought. "From now on Anthony, I'm a one man man." "Oh? Something happen to make you feel that way?" "Shut up!" I giggled. I think we both sensed it could have fared a lot worse for me, if I had to suffer through all forty lashes. "Anthony?" "Yeah, Randy?" "Do you think a guy could really take forty lashes and live?" "Not the way Bob was dealing them out!" Roberto answered. Then, he continued, in his cutesy way, his hand rubbing along the ridge of my shoulders, where the strap hadn't even grazed, cooing, "my poor baby. Wait til I get you home. I'm gonna be so sweet to you." I smiled. This is just what I needed to enhance the feeling of my lonely abode! "We're here!" All this attention I was getting, I hadn't even noticed the sign, Ethan did, leaving one state and entering another. "Another hour or so and we'll be living on easy street!" I replied. "You mean we'll be at your place?" "Roberto, how many times do I have to say..." "I know, Anthony, but it's going to be tough thinking it's my place, too." Being uprooted, moving from here to there, how could he not perceive as much. "Of course it's going to be. Excuse me for not being more understanding." Getting near the old hometown, as much as I wanted to set foot in the place I felt comfort, cozy and homey. However, I had to make one last stop, picking up the ultimate souvenir. % Copyright 2006 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection without prior written permission, by the author.