Date: Sat, 28 Dec 2002 19:18:28 EST
From: Tulsadriller7@aol.com
Subject: Route 66 Tour, Chapter 8/?

Disclaimer:  The following story is a work of fiction.  If
you are offended by descriptions of homosexual acts or
man/man relations, please exit this page.

ROUTE 66 TOUR
Copyright c 2002 by Tulsa Driller 7.  All rights reserved.

     This is a work of fiction and in no way draws on the
lives of any specific person or persons.  Any similarity to
actual persons or events is entirely coincidental.  This
work is copyrighted8 by the author and may not be reproduced
in any form without the specific written permission of the
author.  It is assigned to the Nifty Archives under the
terms of their submission agreement but it may not be copied
or archived on any other site without the written permission
of the author.
     PLEASE:  In a perfect world AIDS doesn't exist.  My
characters sometimes have unprotected sex.  I hope you use
proper precautions because I'd like you to be around the
read the last chapter of this story.

Route 66 Tour
Chapter 8
     We drove in silence for at least 20 miles after we were
on the Turner Turnpike.  I guess we were each lost in our
own thoughts.  I reached for A.J.'s hand, which was resting
on his thigh, and took it in my left one.  He looked at me
with an adorable goofy grin, which I'd only seen once
before.
     "Penny for your thoughts.  I was wondering if you were
going to come to," he said.
     "I think I'm still numb and a penny is a huge bargain
for you.  It'll cut way in to the budget for our 'honeymoon'
cottage," I laughed.
     He joined me in the laugh.
     "Grandmother never ceases to amaze me in the things she
does.  She has lots of money, but other than a nice home and
beautiful clothes you would never know she had a dime.  And
yet, she is one of the biggest patrons of two museums here
in Oklahoma City.  She pretends to blend into the
background, but she's a force to be reckoned with if she
thinks they are misusing her money."
     "If she's as forceful with her bad side as she is her
generous side, I'd hate to be in her way when she walks
through a room."
     "That's just it.  I don't think my parents realize
everything she does and is responsible for.  I know that the
arts will get a big chunk of money when she dies, but you
can be assured that they are going to have to work for it
when that time comes."
     I thought about it for a minute.  "Do you think it's
going to be like a foundation where they have to deal with a
board of trustees to get money?"
     "Something like that," he said with a smile.  "You and
I are going to be the people who have the final say about
how they use the money, whether it be for new acquisitions,
expanding their facilities or whatever they request money
for."
     "Holy shit!" I said.  "How do you know this?"
     "She told me a little of this the other day when she
started to set things in motion for the changes she wants to
make.  She was afraid that if they were just given the money
that it could be used however they wanted to spend it.  She
didn't want outside administrators because she felt they
might not represent either side, so she's turning to us."
     "Geez, I can't believe this."
     We were quiet for another few miles.
     "Are you still with me?" A.J. asked.
     "Of course.  I'm going to be quite a while sorting this
entire matter out.  There is just so much that's happened in
the last couple of weeks.  My life feels like it's been
picked up by a tornado, spun around and around, then set
back down where it was.  Undamaged, but shaken up."
     "That's a great analogy.  It describes things for both
of us perfectly.  You know, she told me that she felt she
was leaving things in good hands and she had never felt that
way before."
     "Well, it's not like she's going to die this afternoon.
She's in good health and more on top of what's going on than
anyone I've ever encountered."
     "Never-the-less, she has been worrying about how to
handle this and she thinks she's found the perfect solution.
You and I will see to it that they have the money they need,
use it right and also see to it that she's properly
remembered for her generosity."
     "I can see that.  Tell me, do you think we should
consider living in Oklahoma City instead of Tulsa?  I mean
if her money is going to Oklahoma City institutions, are we
better off being in residence there?"
     "If I know grandmother, we won't be tied to helping art
museums and foundations in just the Oklahoma City area.  I
think she will want everyone to have fair access to her
generosity."
     "That makes sense.  I just thought since you mentioned
two Oklahoma City museums that it was where everything was
going."
     "No, I know of at least three others who have received
nice gifts already and they weren't anywhere near Oklahoma
City."
     "Okay."
     "Besides, grandmother has always loved Tulsa and I
wouldn't be terribly surprised if she doesn't start living
in the same town with us on a part-time basis.  Sure, all of
her close friends live in Oklahoma City, but she knows
people everywhere.  I think she will be spending a lot of
time with us, not to live with us, but to be near us.  After
all, we are her two favorite grandsons."
     My head was still spinning.  I gave A.J.'s hand a
squeeze - more for my own self-assurance than anything else.
     By this time we were within 15 miles of home and
traffic was starting to pick up.  There was road
construction, a couple of new interchanges were being built
and another reworked to handle more traffic.  It seemed that
Tulsa's newest growth was to the southwest.  It had been a
beautiful day to be driving.  The turnpike handled a lot of
traffic, but with the concrete barrier in the median, it was
a safe road even at 75 mph.  It certainly simplified our
trip.
     * * * * *
     We decided to go out for dinner to celebrate our good
fortune and the blessing our lives together had received.
And, most importantly, here we were - two gay men, one older
and one younger.  Laura was setting us up to have a social
life and become part of the group of people who certainly
made things happen.  Would people start inviting us to
events only because they knew we controlled a lot of money
that might become available to their pet causes?  That was
not a good thought, but we couldn't very well become
recluses, either.
     Home at last.  It was 3:30 p.m. and a beautiful day,
about 80 degrees.  We decided that a swim would be fun.  The
pool would only be open another week and we had used it just
a few times since we'd been together.  The water was cool,
but not too much so as the sun was strong.  We were the only
people in the pool, so instead of swimming, we had taken a
soccer ball and played like two boys, much younger than we
were.
     Back in the apartment, we took turns showering off the
chlorine and pool residue.  After getting dry, we laid down
to rest for a little bit.  The next thing I knew, I was
being rolled onto my back and my lover was stretching his
beautiful body on top of mine.  No fair, he'd been awake for
a little bit and was already hard.  However, in short order
we both were ready to play bedroom games.
     A.J.'s kisses were insistent and I returned them with
vigor, each of us licking up and down the others face from
throat to ears and back.  I'll never understand people who
don't like to kiss.  They might as well forget about doing
anything else - at least in my book it's the biggest turn-on
I can think of.  A few kisses can make me extremely hard and
stay that way for a long time.  And we both liked to kiss
when fucking the other.  There's something about being
stimulated with a tongue, a hard cock and a hairy stomach
and chest, all at the same time.  Both of us seemed to be
able to cum when being fucked without touching our dicks.
What a way to go! - Or "cum".
     We decided to try a new position this evening although
there was no verbal communication about it.  It started with
A.J. lying on his back with me lying on top of him.  The
next thing I realized was that his cockhead was probing my
asshole.  After using a generous quantity of lube, he was
able to penetrate me by raising his hips while I perched on
top of him in an upright position.  It felt so good.  After
a careful adjustment, he was all the way inside me and
started with slow strokes.  As I relaxed, I lay on top of
him, spreading my legs as he raised his hips more.  This put
us into a position where we could kiss and his strokes were
making me slip up and down his furry torso easily since we
were both somewhat sweaty.  That coupled with him bumping my
prostate about every third stroke, made me realize that I
was starting to get a tingle somewhere behind my balls.  He
was using his bent legs as leverage to stay inside me and I
could tell that both of us were getting close to an orgasm.
I started clamping down on his in-stroke and without warning
he started firing the juice of his love up my chute.  All of
a sudden it was really slick in there and he went deeper
than previously.  He must have hit my prostate just right
because that's all it took.  With my sphincter clamping
around his cock and my lips around his tongue, he gave one
final thrust and I erupted, sending what seemed like a
gallon of cum between us.
     With his cock twitching in my asshole from time to time
and an occasional tightening of my sphincter ring, trying to
keep him there, he began to soften and soon slipped out.  I
felt empty, but we were still in each other's arms.  The
kisses continued as we softly whispered "I love you" to each
other.
     We must have dozed for a little bit because when we
came to and started to pull apart, our stomach and chest
hair was glued to the other, like we shared one pelt.  Of
course it was time to hit the showers again.
     "If we could experience what just happened here every
time we had sex, we'd be taking a dozen showers a day," A.J.
giggled.
     "Maybe even more," I said, with a leer and wiggled my
eyebrows.
     * * * * *
     We had our usual "martini" of Beefeater Gin on the
rocks with a twist this time.  Since we were going to have a
big meal, we skipped snacks tonight.  A.J. punched Laura's
number and we talked to her for almost a half hour on the
speakerphone.
     She had set up guest privileges for A.J. at Southern
Hills Country Club, since they had an agreement with the
Oklahoma City Country Club.  That's where we went for dinner
after putting on suits.  I had eaten there once, about
twenty years before.  The dining room was still much as it
had been then.  Elegant, quiet, excellent food and the
service was as it should be.  We were not rushed and each
course appeared after a suitable wait from the one before.
Our waiter was a fellow named Thomas, although we never
figured out if that was his first name or his last.
Clearly, he was one of us and treated us as if we were his
only customers that evening.  A.J. and I were impressed and
talked about acquiring a membership, although neither of us
played golf.  Maybe there was a "town club" where the dining
room was the most important service they offered.
     Of course, we each had another drink, our usual.  We
"cheered" each other by touching glasses and silently
puckering our lips at each other.  I think Thomas saw that.
     Each of us started with a cup of vegetable mushroom
soup, then moved to a salad with the house dressing
recommended by Thomas.  Excellent!
     I ordered a London Broil and A.J. decided to try their
sirloin roast.  Both were excellent choices as we sampled
what the other had.
     I had ordered a twice-baked potato unlike any I'd ever
had before.  The meat of the potato had been mixed with
Roquefort, garlic and pieces of ham, and then finished under
the broiler.  The other vegetable was Brussels sprouts in a
sweet sauce that made them seem like a "sweet-sour" treat.
     A.J. had ordered asparagus and potato cakes with his
entree.  All good.
     As is usual with country clubs, the dessert was the
piece de resistance and was a trifle made with pound cake,
brandied fruit and whipped cream.  No need for a liqueur
after that.  Plenty of coffee instead.
     As we were on our way home we were thankful that it was
only 2 miles to our apartment, although we hadn't had too
much to drink.  We were just tired after a long day.  One
that had started with mind-blowing sex in the morning and
another, equally intense session late in the afternoon.
     At home, we stripped down to our boxers and ended up
sitting on the love seat to watch the news.  Neither of us
cares for late night talk shows.  Same old format every
night and the guests cycle from one show to the other.
     We decided that tomorrow would be a good day to drive
around the town to get an idea of the area of town we wanted
to locate to live.  We pretty much knew that it was going to
be between Peoria and Harvard and 21st and 51st as the
north/south boundaries.  That was a six-square mile area and
had all types of homes in it.
     It was nice to just sit and talk, to be close to each
other.  Nothing sexual was intended, just enjoying each
other's company.  We talked more about a house and both of
us had suggestions.  A.J. loved to cook as much as I did, so
a large kitchen with plenty of storage for small appliances
and gadgets was his request.  I agreed, adding a pantry.
     My thoughts were toward a grand music studio, one I
hoped would be a two-story room.  I was getting tired of
playing the organ and using headphones.  There was a similar
problem with the piano.  I felt that I could only play
during the day, although the lady who lived upstairs above
us swore she could barely hear it.
     A.J. suggested that we either have a guest room for
Laura on the ground floor since she had problems with steps,
or a guesthouse.  Of course, a large dining room was almost
mandatory. for dinner parties.
     We decided that we wanted a comfortable living room for
more formal gatherings, but a really comfortable den or
family room with a fireplace would be nice, also.
     We agreed that we should call Doug Reynolds tomorrow
morning.  I wondered what kind of person he was and if he
would be comfortable with helping two gay men find a home.
Then I decided that it didn't make any difference.  If he
had a problem, there were other real estate agents in town.
However, when A.J. and I discussed it, we agreed that
Herbert wouldn't recommend anyone who wouldn't be willing to
work with us.
     It was time to call it a day and go to bed.  We'd had a
long, somewhat stressful day, along with a trip to Oklahoma
City and back, two wonderful sexual episodes, a swim and a
wonderful dinner at the best country club in Tulsa.  To say
nothing of being with each other for the entire day.
     We made the coffeemaker ready for tomorrow morning,
turned out the lights and went to the bedroom.  It didn't
take us long to strip off our clothes and use the bathroom.
We found our way to bed and, on our sides, wrapped ourselves
with the other.  I didn't remember anything except a long
kiss that assured me we loved each other.  The next morning
A.J. told me he didn't remember ending the kiss, either.
     * * * * *
     We were both up about 5:30 to pee, then slept until
7:30, unusual for each of us.  After starting the
coffeemaker, I opened the drapes in the living room.  Yuk.
It was raining lightly, but must have been at it for a while
because the low place in the sidewalk out front was full of
water.  A.J. came from the bathroom, stood behind me and
wrapped his arms around me.
     "Yeeuwk," was his assessment of the situation.  I
turned on the TV and they happened to be on a station break
from the Today Show and local weather was on.  This was
moving out and they were predicting sunshine by 10 o'clock.
A.J. retrieved the morning paper from the doorstep while I
poured orange juice and got coffee mugs out.  We settled on
the love seat to half-listen to the TV, scan the paper and
generally prepare to start the day.
     After looking at the first section of the paper, I went
to the kitchen to pour coffee.  A.J. started laughing at
something he was reading in the paper.  I went back to the
living room with a question on my face.
     "Wait until you read Jason's column today," he laughed.
     Jason Ashley Wright is the fashion editor of the Tulsa
World and is a young fellow, about 26 from what we could
discern from his columns.  Good-looking guy, from
Mississippi.  His weekly column is in the "Style" section of
the Tuesday paper each week and every gay guy we knew read
it for their weekly laugh.  Today's offering had to do with
the "tight white pants" football players wear.  A.J. read
the column out loud to me and we were both laughing until
tears were in our eyes.  This guy has class, but nothing is
sacred in his world.
     Of course, being the dirty-minded men we were, we
wondered what criteria he had used for his research and how
it had been conducted.
     While drinking our first mug of coffee, we went back
over our ideas about a house and decided to call Doug
Reynolds as soon as we were cleaned up and ready to go out.
I got a note pad and jotted down the items we had discussed,
hoping that our wants weren't too diverse, but that's why
Doug was in the real estate business.
     We had a toasted apple-cinnamon bagel with our second
cup of coffee and I headed to the bathroom to start shaving
and go through the shower.  I yelled back at A.J.
     "Put 'large bathroom that two people can use at the
same time' on the list, too."
     By the time I was ready to shower, A.J. was lathering
up his face.  My shower didn't take long and he was ready to
crawl in the tub when I was sufficiently dry enough to stand
on the bath mat.
     "Do I get another 'good morning kiss'?" he asked as we
traded places.  I was only too willing - and so was he.
     After drying my hair, I retrieved A.J.'s empty cup from
the bathroom and headed to the kitchen for the third cup of
life support for each of us.  A.J. was just starting to dry
his hair when I set his cup on the bathroom counter.  We
exchanged another kiss and I gave his new nipple ornament a
tug.  His reply was such that I finally had to set my cup
down before I spilled it.
     As we were dressing casually for the day, we decided to
call Doug Reynolds, and then drive around various
neighborhoods this morning.  We placed the call on the
speakerphone and the receptionist suggested we call Doug's
cell phone number, as he wasn't in the office yet.
     The second call was successful and he told us he was
expecting to hear from us today.  Our apartment was on the
way to his office, so he suggested he stop by in about 15
minutes.  To save him time in getting into the complex, I
gave him the gate access code so he could get right in
without having to call for us to buzz him in.
     Doug wasn't anything like I expected, although I don't
know what my preconceived idea was exactly.  It turned out
that he was probably about 40, dressed casually with Dockers
and a polo shirt.  He was in good shape and I guessed that
he either played tennis or golf.  It quickly became clear
that he was "one of us" and then he told us that about 60%
of his business was with gays and lesbians.
     We further found out that there was a quirk in the real
estate business in Tulsa.  About half the homes listed for
sale never had a sign in the yard.  This was something that
the Tulsa Realty Board had started some years before.  He
felt that it had actually helped sales by not advertising
the fact that some properties were slow to sell and on the
market for a long time.
     Doug spent an hour with us, talking about property,
what we wanted in a house and if we were willing to do a
major remodel if a house was found that was otherwise
suitable.  He was certainly impressed when we told him that
we wanted a house "with character" but really weren't
limiting ourselves to any one neighborhood and could
consider a new home if something could be found that was to
our liking.  He mentioned a new development on South Lewis
where 24 new homes were being built.  We had seen the area,
but hadn't driven through it.  Doug told us that 3 lots were
still available to build on.
     As it turned out, he had listings on three homes that
he thought we might want to look at and got out the book
with pictures of each.  The one we liked best was close to
the Philbrook Art Museum, but way out of our price range.
Doug indicated that the executive had lost his job in a
corporate takeover and was leaving Tulsa.  He thought that
the people were anxious to try to get out of the house for
what they owed on it - less than half of what it was
probably worth.
     "How long has this place been on the market - and what
are we going to have to do to it?" was my question.
     "It just was listed about 3 weeks ago.  The owners did
a complete remodel two years ago when they bought it.  It
has a new, large kitchen, plumbing, wiring, heating and air
conditioning and all new landscaping except for 6 large
trees on the lot."
     "In your opinion, what's wrong with it?" A.J. asked.
     "Not particularly set up for raising children," Doug
said.  "There are two large bedrooms on the second floor
that have their own bathrooms and two small bedrooms with a
small bath between them on the first floor, next to the
living room.
     We wrote down the addresses and pertinent information
about each house, telling Doug that we would drive around to
look at each one.  He told us that the house we had just
discussed was available to look at immediately as the people
had gone to Houston to look for an apartment and that the
sale people would be in next week to start getting their
furnishings ready for an estate sale.
     "I think you fellows will really like this place if you
want to look at it.  Although I haven't had anyone else
interested in the place, it might sell pretty quickly at the
price they might be willing to settle for."
     A.J. gave me a look that told me he was interested so
we agreed to go right then.
     Doug was driving a new Mercedes E430 sedan.  'Real
Estate business must be pretty good,' I thought.
     The pictures didn't do the place justice.  The lot was
about a half-acre and the house sat back about 50 feet from
the street with a driveway curving up a slight hill from the
street, then disappearing around the side of the house.
There was a 2-story entry hall with a stairway going to the
second floor on one side.  To the right was a large living
room with a cathedral ceiling.  The owners had opened up the
ceiling, probably losing two of the upstairs rooms.  You
could also look into the living room from the upstairs hall.
The room itself was 24 by 30 with a 21 foot pitched ceiling.
This certainly would make a nice music room, especially by
taking the carpet out and having a hard surfaced floor.
     The owners had left the two dormers on the front of the
house in place, allowing indirect, north light into the
room.  It certainly made for a nice, light room.  There was
a fireplace on the outside wall, opposite the hall wall.
     The two downstairs bedrooms were behind the living
room, with the bathroom between them, not a good arrangement
in my thinking.
     On the opposite side of the house, was a formal dining
room, with a large kitchen behind it.  They had been
designed to be one room, but had folding doors, which could
shut the dining room off, leaving a single door to the
kitchen.  The center hall divided the house, ending with an
opening to the kitchen, an outside backdoor and had a door
to the living room at the back.
     There were stairs to the basement where there was a
large laundry room and lots of storage.  The basement was
about half the size of the house, but had a large den under
the living room.  This had a fireplace, too.
     We went back upstairs, then to the 2nd floor.  The
front of the house had a master bedroom with a large
bathroom featuring a Jacuzzi and large glass shower
enclosure.  There was a large walk-in closet next to the
bath.
     The back bedroom was smaller, but still had a good-
sized bathroom with a walk-in closet on the other side of
it.  I realized that the bathroom and closet were above the
bedrooms and bath behind the living room.  This really was a
strange floor plan, but had some interesting possibilities.
     We went back downstairs and outside into the backyard.
There was a two-car garage, sitting at a right angle and
attached to the house by a covered breezeway.  We both liked
the idea that the garage couldn't be seen from the street.
There wasn't much backyard, but you could put in a small
pool to splash around in.  Certainly not a large one.
     The house had been built in 1926, was 'double brick'
and frame.  The owners had the place completely insulated
when they remodeled.  There didn't seem to be any cracks in
the mortar.
     Doug told us the asking price on the house was $660
thousand, but that the mortgage was $387 thousand.
Apparently these people were between a rock and a hard place
and couldn't afford to pay rent (probably in an upscale
complex) and make the monthly payments here, too.  The man
had taken a large salary cut in order to find a job right
away.
     A.J. and I smiled at each other, then told Doug that we
wanted to look at the place again to take pictures and
measurements.  We drove away from there thinking we'd found
what we wanted - needed - at a good price and could probably
work out a deal.
     Doug drove us to the new development on South Lewis.
They were building some interesting homes there, all looking
like they had been built in the 1920's.
     We had the addresses of the other two properties
mentioned, so would strike out on our own after lunch.
     "If you want to go back in the place on 27th Place, let
me know and I'll either drop a key off or make arrangements
for you to pick one up at the office," Doug said as we got
out of the car.
     "Okay.  The only thing I see wrong with it right now
are the two downstairs bedrooms.  They seem to be in an
awkward place.  It would be nice if they could be screened
from the living room."
     "That shouldn't be too hard to do, given the size of
the living room.  Maybe a screen of some kind that isn't
permanent, but covers the entrances to the two rooms and
bath," he said.
     "Organ pipes!" A.J. spoke up.
     "Huh?" Doug replied.
     "Build a facade of organ pipes to screen the doors,
then put the speakers for the Rodgers Organ behind them.
Solves two problems - covering the doors and hiding the
speakers.  It'll look great," A.J. enthused.
     "When did you get so smart about organs?" I asked in
surprise.
     "When I met you.  I remember seeing the pictures of
your old music studio.  You used non-playing organ pipes to
screen the speakers instead of grill cloth and it looked
real," he smiled, as if to say "gottcha"!
     Interesting thought and they didn't necessarily have to
be "fake" although I'd rather have a real principal chorus
in the great division instead of pedal pipes.  Hmmm.  A.J.
may have solved the only problem I'd seen so far.
     After bidding Doug good-bye, we promised to call to
pick up a key a little later this afternoon.
     "Just keep this one for now.  Here's the alarm code,"
he said as he jotted numbers on his business card.  It was
an ADT system, so I knew how it operated.  "Just call my
cell phone and I'll make arrangements to get the key this
evening," Doug told us.
     * * * * *
     We made ham sandwiches for lunch and warmed up some
homemade potato soup to go with them.
     "If they are going to sell furniture, and there are
things we like, it might be a great opportunity to furnish
the place at a reasonable cost and still pay them more than
they would get at an estate sale," A.J. said while we were
eating.
     "You've already bought the place," I laughed.
     He pretended to be hurt.
     "No, but I can see a lot of possibilities.  He started
naming off some of the things we said we wanted.
     "A ground floor room for grandmother for when she
visits, a large music room for you, a large formal dining
room, a gourmet kitchen, a big 'playroom' for us (this was
said with a leer), a comfortable den in the basement."
     "Alright, already." I laughed.  "And it's a great
address, too." I added.
     I was thinking, 'the house is perfect and if the
afternoon inspection proved out, we might be making a deal.
right away.'
     * * * * *
     (to be continued)
                * * * * *
Author's Note:  I would appreciate your comments, criticism,
suggestions, and anything else that you would care to say.
All Email will be answered.  If you wish to receive e-mail
notification of subsequent postings, please let me know by
sending your request to the e-mail address below.  Contact
me at: tulsadriller7@aol.com

I'm sorry for the delay in getting this chapter written and
posted.  Hopefully now that most of the seasonal
distractions are over, I can get back on a regular writing
schedule.