Date: Thu, 4 Sep 2014 13:50:03 -0500
From: Jack Schaeffer <jack.schaeffman@gmail.com>
Subject: Forever - Chapter 2 (Beginnings)

Disclaimer: This story contains graphic scenes of man on man sex so if your
country or state does not allow such material to be read or you have come
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Authors Note: This is a work of fiction, and the characters, places, and
events are not real, nor are they based on real events. They exist only in
the mind of the author. Any resemblance to real persons, places or events is
unintentional.

Comments welcomed: jack.schaeffman@gmail.com


FOREVER

By Jack Schaeffer

Chapter 2

March

It was a little after 5:30 that evening when I finally turned off my
typewriter and pushed all the papers on my desk into a big pile. I would have
to sort through all of them tomorrow. I was done in for today.

I grabbed my jacket out of the closet as it was kind of cold tonight for
being late March, but weather in Chicago is nothing if not unpredictable. I
got into my car, which I was proud I had paid off last month, though to be
honest it was a very cheap car to start with. Not exactly a rust bucket, but
nothing fancy either. It got me back and forth to work, though, and it wasn't
the bus.

There were snow flurries hitting the windshield as I made my way in the light
traffic to the hotel where I was to meet Barry, the mystery lawyer. Now that
I was not working, my mind was free to think about possible scenarios
involving an unknown dead person leaving me something in a will that required
more than one lawyer to figure out. By the time I pulled into the parking lot
of the Marriott, I had myself more confused and anxious than before.

I steeled myself against the blowing wind and trekked into the lobby of the
hotel, on the lookout for the Starlight lounge. It wasn't hard to find.
Twenty feet to the right of the entrance, with dark wood everything for
decoration, it was basically a bar with four tables haphazardly scattered
around the small alcove of a room off the main lobby. There was only one
patron in there, sitting at the bar, and he sort of matched the description
Barry had given me earlier. He had left out that he was well past middle age,
growing a serious paunch, and had the thickest five o'clock shadow I had ever
seen on a guy. He looked more street thug than lawyer, but the crumpled suit
he was wearing was obviously not off the rack at Sears. So I guess he was a
real lawyer. He must have had a hard day, by the look of him now.

The only other person in sight was the bartender, and he was very gentle on
the eyes. Looked about 30 or so, dark, short hair, and a killer smile, even
from far away. He was put together very tight, and his clothes (jeans, black
t-shirt) fit him like a second skin. Skin I wished I was up against right
about now. I suddenly wished I was meeting him and not a stranger lawyer. My
crotch felt a little tighter as I started moving toward the lounge.

It was two minutes after 6 o'clock, so Barry was looking for me, and as I got
closer I think it finally registered that I was the person he was waiting
for. He got up from his bar stool holding his drink in his left hand while
reaching with his right to shake mine. He smiled, showing a lot of very white
teeth against his red, bulbous nose and somewhat bloodshot eyes.

"I'm assuming you are Jack?"

"Yes. And you must be Barry."

"Yeah, have a seat here next to me," he said, indicating to join him at the
bar.

"Uh, Barry, if you wouldn't mind, can we sit at one of the tables? I prefer
to not sit at a bar, if that's okay." I didn't want to explain my aversion to
bars, so I hoped he would just go along with my request.

"Sure. Sure. No problem."

I noticed Joe the bartender look up and smile at me while he was washing a
glass. For him I might be willing to lay on top of the bar and do unspeakable
things. He was so incredibly hot. I smiled back in a way I hoped was not
suggestive, since I wouldn't know how to follow through anyway, and waited
for Barry.

Never letting go of the drink in his left hand, he grabbed his brief case and
some money laying on the bar and transferred himself to the table the
farthest into the interior of the lounge. We were alone, it was quiet, and
other than being a bar, I guess it was an okay place for meeting a client.

I sat down opposite him, my back to the lobby, and waited, hoping he would
guide the conversation, as I still had no idea what any of this was about.
Thankfully, he needed no prompting.

"Okay. So to explain my call earlier today. As I told you, we have an
attorney in our Denver office who represented a client who he says has named
you in her estate as a beneficiary. I have no idea as to what that means or
all that that entails, just that there is some level of urgency at contacting
you this week and getting more information to you. Apparently Clyde, he's
this other lawyer, can't get here to Chicago this week, or he would have come
directly to you himself. Anyway, my job in all this was to set up this
meeting, confirm your identity, and then give you his telephone number and he
would take it from there. So, would you mind showing me your driver's license
so I can make sure you are you?"

Clearly Barry was all business. No chit chat with him. My initial wariness
returned. "Well, Barry, that's interesting, to say the least. But I don't
feel real good about all this. Why do you need my driver's license?" I was
totally fearing identity theft, or worse, at this point.

"What? Oh...I get it. No worries, it's simple really. I was given some
particulars of your identity from Clyde and he asked if I would verify them
against your driver's license before giving you his phone number. If the info
matches, he will tell you more over the phone about all this. He said that
finding someone as a beneficiary that you have never met can be challenging,
especially if you incorrectly identify the person. He said something about
avoiding false hopes, or something like that." He said that last part as if
he knew what false hopes felt like. I suddenly felt sorry for Barry, but had
no idea why.

His explanation made sense I guess, so I pulled out my license from my wallet
as he retrieved a letter from his briefcase. I could see from looking at it
upside down that it was a letter written on company letterhead with the name
of the law firm on it. It certainly looked legit. Barry compared the data on
my license to the contents in the letter, and quickly concluded that it all
matched, including birthdate and address.

"Looks good to me. Everything matches. Okay, I'm now going to call Clyde and
let him know that we have met and I have positively identified you." With
that, he started punching numbers into his cell phone. I sat there feeling
like a pawn in a much bigger game which I did not understand.

Someone apparently answered on the other end, as Barry said, "This is Barry
Wilson from the Chicago office for Clyde Watson. Sure, I'll hold." He
motioned to the bartender with his nearly empty glass for a refill. He sure
seemed hell bent on satisfying an unquenchable thirst.

"Clyde, this is Barry. I'm sitting here with that kid you wanted me to meet -
Jack Schaeffer." Barry paused and listened for a minute. "Yep, everything
matched to a 'T'. What's the next step here?" I was starting to feel like
Barry was trying to get rid of his problem - namely me - in a big hurry,
probably so he could get back to his drink. And the one after that.

After listening a few seconds more, Barry suddenly handed me his phone and
said, "Here, he wants to talk to you." I took the phone from him and he
immediately got up to see what was taking the bartender so long with his
drink. "Hey, Joe, what's taking so long with my drink?" So the bartender's
name was Joe. I liked the name Joe. I would probably like any Joe that looked
like the bartender.

I refocused and put the phone to my ear. "Hello?" I said, not knowing what to
expect.

"Is that you, Jack?" The voice on the other end sounded older, and a little
like maybe he had a head cold.

"Yes, this is Jack. Hello, Mr. Watson," I replied.

"It's Clyde, Jack, and thank you for agreeing to meet with Barry on such
short notice. I apologize for the last minute hoopla, but it couldn't be
helped, which I can explain. But first, let me also apologize for not being
able to meet you in person there in Chicago. I unfortunately have been having
a bit of the flu, which thankfully I am finally turning a corner on. But my
doctor did not think it was advisable to fly as sick as I was. So I called
our office out there to see if they could help out."

"No problem for me, Clyde."

"Good. Now let me tell you a little more of what is going on, and then what
the next steps need to be. Do you have a few minutes?"

I looked over to Barry, who was back sitting at the bar, nursing his drink
and eating free nuts by the handful, staring at a basketball game on a
television over the bar mirror. He was oblivious to us at this point.

"Sure, Clyde. I'm good," I said.

"Okay. Well, I have represented a family out here in the Denver area for many
years. They are really family friends at this point. Anyway, the last member
of the family passed away nearly six months ago, and it is my job to fully
execute her will and act as the managing trustee of the family trust. Shortly
before her death, which was from an extended illness, she changed some of the
particulars in her affairs, which included adding you as a beneficiary to the
estate."

"Who was this person, if you don't mind my asking?" I was trying to be as
polite as I could. "I really don't know anyone in Denver, or have any family
there that I know of."

"No, I don't think you knew her, so you might be a bit confused by this. I
know I was. I don't want to say too much over the phone as there are some
legal matters to be finalized first, but I can tell you her name was Amanda
Franklin, and she was the widow of Phillip Franklin, who passed away three
years ago or so."

"That name certainly doesn't ring any bells for me."

"I thought not. So Jack, here's what I would like to ask you to do. I need
you to come here to Denver this week, so I can complete all the transfers of
assets of the estate. I can't do that without your signatures on several
forms and some other things. Could you do that, do you think?"

Was he serious? Drop everything and go to Denver? This week?

"I don't know, Clyde. That would be tough for me. I have my job to do plus I
don't have money or a way to get to Denver, especially on such short notice.
Can't we do the paperwork through the mail or something, overnight letters or
something like that?"

"Unfortunately, no, Jack, that won't work in this case. The judge who is
reviewing the estate and the probate of the will has requested that you
appear in person before him to satisfy the legal requirement of positive
identification, as you are a beneficiary of an estate for which you are not
family or a known acquaintance of the deceased. This is a rare request, but I
think he is wanting to avoid any possibility of an issue with the estate
later on down the road."

Odd, but not unreasonable, I guess.

"Well, can we do it later then, just not this week?" I was confused as to the
urgency of it all.

"Ordinarily that would be fine, Jack, and I do apologize again for the
suddenness of all of this. It took quite a while for my office to locate you
- Amanda didn't provide us anyway to contact you or any direct information to
locate you. Once we found you, then I had the delay of my illness to contend
with. Unfortunately, there is a deadline within the terms of the will and
trust that state all matters must be resolved within six months of the death
of the last owner of the trust. That date is this Saturday, so if I am going
to be able to get you the assets she wanted you to have, I have to do it this
week. My hands are tied on that score."

"And you're positive you have the right guy?"

"Yes, Jack, I am pretty positive you are the guy she named. I can explain why
when you get here."

"Well, Clyde, even if I could get away this week from work, I really have no
way to get there. I have no money to buy a plane ticket, and I certainly
can't drive that far. Is this really going to be worth all this trouble? I
don't mean to sound ungrateful, but I didn't even know the woman, and if we
are doing all this for a small amount of money or some family trinkets or
pictures or something, wouldn't it be best if we just let it all go? I can't
afford to be out of pocket at this time to make the trip, really."

My frustration was mounting, both with the time pressure and my never-ending
lack of funds to deal with things like this. Though a quick trip to Denver
was not something I would have budgeted for, even if I had the extra cash.

"I completely understand that, Jack. If you can get the time off work, I can
easily take care of everything else. I promise it will not cost you a single
penny to come out here and do this. And while I can't discuss any more
details over the phone as to your bequest, I can tell you it's more than
pictures or trinkets." He said it with a smile in his voice, so I don't think
he was mad at me for my comment. He seemed amused almost. I felt bad for
being so self-centered.

"I'm sorry, Clyde, if I seemed flippant or selfish about it. I know this
woman, Amanda, was your friend. Please forgive me. If you can take care of
the expenses somehow, I will see if I can get the time off. When would you
want me to be there?"

"I appreciate that, Jack, more than you know. If you can swing it, I'd like
to get you on a flight tomorrow evening. That way we could meet Thursday and
get everything taken care by the end of the day Friday, I think. Would that
work for you?"

"I can try. It's short notice though. I have the time off stored up, I never
go anywhere. But I have to see if my boss will let me go that quickly. Can I
call you tomorrow sometime to confirm?"

"Sure, my boy. Call this same number. My secretary will find me or, more than
likely, she will have already made all the arrangements for you. You can
trust her, her name is Sharon, and she is my right arm. If she can't get it
done, it can't be done."

"Got it. Call and ask for Sharon. Okay, well then, I guess I will be talking
to you again soon, Clyde."

"Thanks, Jack. I hope to see you in a couple of days. Goodbye for now." With
that the call ended and I was sitting there staring at another man's phone,
wondering what in the world just happened to me. Barry was into maybe his
fifth drink by now, and the lounge was filling up with game watchers.
Apparently this basketball game was something important, but I didn't know
why.

I suddenly remembered I needed the phone number for Clyde, so I grabbed a pen
from my pocket and wrote the last number called from the cell phone onto a
table napkin. It wasn't a Chicago area code, so I assumed it was the Denver
office number. With that, I was done. I stood up and walked the few steps to
the bar and gently touched Barry on the shoulder. He turned and struggled to
focus on my face a bit, then smiled when he realized he knew me.

"Hey, kid. Get everything worked out alright?"

"Yeah. All set. Thanks for the help. Here's your phone," I said, handing it
over. He took it and looked at it like he couldn't remember that he had given
it to me in the first place.

"I'm leaving now, Barry. Have a good evening."

"You, too, kid. See ya." He turned back to his game and swallowed the rest of
his drink. I'm pretty sure he didn't remember my name anymore.

The drive home was slow, as it was still snowing, but not enough to make the
roads dangerous. Just slow. Which was fine, as I had no agenda for the
evening. I never did.

I was getting hungry, so I pulled into a Wendy's and got a chicken sandwich,
fries, and a Diet Coke. This was my usual, steady diet. Thankfully, even
though I ate a lot of fast food, I was still in okay shape. At least I though
6 feet tall and 170 was okay shape. But how would I really know? It's not
like I had anybody in my life who would care.

I got to my apartment, which I still love, and hung up my jacket in the
closet and grabbed the mail. The usual bills - my student loan payment was
due this week. Needed my check on Friday to cover that. The rest were junk,
and I put them where junk is supposed to go. I grabbed a glass of water from
the sink - I can't afford bottled water generally - and turned on the TV. The
basketball game Barry had been watching was on, and I left it there with the
volume turned down, and thought about my conversation with Clyde.

Was all this really happening? Was I really going to drop everything at a
moment's notice and head to Denver to get who knows what kind of inheritance
from a woman I didn't know? So surreal. Of course, what if it was real, and
she left me some serious coin? That would certainly change things up a bit
for me. Take some pressure off.

Not that I really had too much to complain about. Sure, I had the usual money
shortages that most everyone not living off a trust fund has. But my bills
got paid, and I had the basics. I had a job I liked, an apartment I liked, a
car that got me where I needed to go, and I was healthy. I was free of my
dysfunctional family and I had a few friends to hang out with on occasion.

Fred and I still got together every once in a while, usually to hang out with
some of his friends from his job. There was nobody else my age at my job - it
was too small of a place. Usually we would just go to Fred's house and chill
in his basement - they had a pool table, ping pong table, and some video game
machines. I was still very much in the closet, so I was careful not to lust
openly after any of the guys, which wasn't hard as none of them really turned
me on. They were nice to me though, and included me, even though I am
terrible at video games and pool. And ping pong. Sigh.

The only time it was tough for me was when they wanted to go out drinking. I
was okay for a little while if we went to a club where there were tables away
from the bar, and maybe some nice music to listen to. I would people watch,
drink my diet soda, and try to not be too obvious in my leering at the sexy
guys that walked by. These nights were filled with anxiety and sexual
excitement, which made for an interesting mix of chemical hormones racing
through my system.

If they wanted to hang out a bar, I usually had one Diet Coke and called it a
night. I can't handle sitting at a bar. My father dragged me to one bar after
another when I was a kid. He would have us, my brother Terry and me, for
weekend visitation, after he dumped my mom and us to shack up with his
secretary from work. He was an alcoholic, just like my brother (probably
where he learned the skills), and he liked to spend a full Saturday parked at
the bar in a country tavern, chatting up the bar keep and talking big about
his plans for the future.

I spent those days begging for quarters for the juke box, playing one sad
song after another to match my emotions. What a pitiful way to spend a
weekend, especially for a 10 year old boy. I should have been outside playing
baseball with my friends, or digging in dirt, or swimming, or riding a bike.
I was never so relieved when he announced near my 12th birthday that he was
relocating to Montana for a job. That was the end of my time in taverns and
bars.

I managed to survive my childhood with my sanity and sobriety in check,
unlike my brother Terry. For that I was grateful. And I really did not
dislike my life, overall. Sure, I was lonely. But that was my normal. So it
didn't interfere with my day to day stuff. I'm sure I was less than I could
be in some way, but what that was I didn't know.

It was getting late and I was tired, feeling pretty mentally and emotionally
drained. I turned off the TV and the lights, did my thing in the bathroom,
stripped off my clothes, and jumped in bed.

As was my custom, I grabbed some lube from my bedside table, closed my eyes,
and started thinking about the bartender Joe and what we could be doing to
each other on the bar after the lounge closed.

To be continued...


Author's Note: There will eventually be more sex in this story, but I am
allowing that to occur only as Jack discovers more of himself and begins to
let the side of himself come alive. I think it makes the story more
realistic.