Date: Sun, 1 Nov 2015 15:56:16 +0000
From: TCHASE MCPHEE <survivalgame@outlook.com>
Subject: ALeK iN wONdeRfULaNd 26

The drill: This 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, of continents or islands, in countries, counties, cities, towns,
villages, school campuses, crowded beaches, neighborhoods, streets,
cul-de-sacs, nor governmental or non-governmental areas, which the story is
staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you,
then why are you here? Seriously, if guy-to-guy sex stuff makes you barf or
is going to screw up your mind, you should not read this story.


Various states and countries have various rules regarding reading or
viewing `adult material'. It is up to the reader to research this subject,
abiding by their own laws. The pages of this story contain `adult
material', intended for an `adult audience'. Bypass this warning at your
own risk.


% Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use
protection.



Hey dudes, if you have enjoyed reading NiFTy stories as much as I have,
over the years, consider adding some support for `internet $pace' or else I
will have to start cutting steamy characters out of my stories.

http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html



^o^ Concluding remarks ~ reading this story could make you stiff or gooey,
so I would suggest not reading it in a classroom...you should be paying
attention to the professor anyhoo...just sayin'! :)



%


ALeK iN wONdeRfULaNd 26

WriTten by T. Chase McPhee


^o^


%


Going into the evening hours, unlike the rest of the bunch, Alek wasn't at
all worn down from the day's barn-busting.


Before dinner he slouched at the pool. When the dinner bell rang, he
followed along the slow procession to the dining room tables.


It was great he could spend some moments with Ethan, who then split off and
went about his `CK' business. He had been warned, duty could come at any
time of the morning or evening, Ethan putting it, `That's why I get paid
the big bucks!'


Right now, Ethan was off with Jimi, formalizing some details. Walking
around the grounds, bored for the most part, he came across Drew and
Scott. However, they were on the verge of taking their light evening
workout, from hanging by tree limbs, to the shower and then off for what
they called sleep, so Alek he knew better than to engage in chit-chat.


Turning the corner from the row of cottages facing the woods, he literally
runs into Keb!


"Oh, sorry, there, Alek!"


Smartly, Alek says of touching flesh to flesh, "I'm not!"


Keb just smiled, asking, "Say, have you seen Johnny? I thought he would be
at his post, cleaning leaves out of the pool, but now I've lost track of
him."


"Well," Alek smiles, their careening force not all worn off, "last time I
passed the pool, there weren't any leaves. You know how he missed dinner?"


"Right. I was about to go find him then, but..."


"But you were caught up in conversation with Glenn?" Alek guessed it.


"Uh, yeah," it finally registers, Keb remembering, vaguely, "I did see
Johnny. He was headed for the kitchen. You don't suppose he's still there?"


"Only one way to find out," Alek walking next to his cocoa-skinned friend.


Keb asks, before setting his feet on the path, "Oh, you were going that way
anyhow?"


"Right now," Alek pauses, "I don't have any agenda for the evening."


"What about your mate?"


"Ethan? You've got to realize, which he was quick to inform me from the
start, when Cayman snaps his fingers, if you're lucky enough to be on his
payroll, you better come runnin'!"


"Good to know something like that, because right before dinner, Jimi
grabbed my ear..."


Alek cuts in, "Hmm, I would've grabbed something else!"


"Go for it!"


Left with his jaw dropped, Alek closes it up with thoughts of, "And what
would Jack think of that?"


"Jack," Keb dwells on the name, picturing the teen in his mind, "I don't
know about me and Jack?"


It then occurs to Alek, "By the way, where is the lad?"


"Lad? May I remind you, you are not any older, though..." Keb's fingertips
float down Alek's arm.


"By the way, when's the last time you got shagged?"


Both knew what was on the other's mind. If Keb and Jack weren't hitting it
off, which Alek rather thought the two were mismatched, if Keb hadn't at
least had a handjob, he would be hankering to sniff out new meat...


"Well, I had really wanted to tell Johnny about my good news...but at the
same time...when's the last time you and Ethan did it?"


"Did what?" was Alek's reply, laughing, which was as much as saying, `no
action.' Alek very well knew the punch line from his `Johnson' days.


"Well, if you're up for a little man to man?"


`Yeah, this was a pickup,' Alek knew it. Not really wanting to repeat the
`Johnson' days, fucking every ass presented for his approval, toys, "Jack
won't mind?"


"Right now he's with Pete and Maynard," Keb says it, like on elementary
school level, "working on the album with the little Lego spaceman pix they
took of him sitting in the guys' navels?"


Smiling, lost for return words, not really wanting to get involved past a
little necking, Alek says, "I thought your spaceman pic looked hot!"


"Bet my tongue could do a better job than Captain Lego!" Keb was thinking
it a test, see what kind of conniving it would take to break Alek.


They had done enough chat, the two heading off to Alek's cottage. Small
talk was in order, so Keb spilled the beans over Jimi asking if he wanted
to be a part of new growth, CK's western expansion, which was focused on a
new real estate development, the resort at Soda Flats. Keb was filling in
the last detail, part of the fringe benefits, a free college education,
when Alek flicks the light switch on.


Keb's cue, to fade when the lights went on, didn't turn out the way he
pictured it, the jig up, telling Alek it was all a put on, saying he was
really dedicated to Jack and...


"Ethan? What the fuck is this?" Instead, Alek is the one doing all the
talking!


`Fuck' was right, which could not be denied, the main activity, Ethan
slamming his screwdriver in between the shelves of Jimi's hardware store,
"I can explain, Alek," Ethan claims, pulling his glistening tube out.


Flicking the switch off, Alek slams the door shut behind them.


"Hey, you okay baby?" Keb asks, then the obvious, "You're not okay?"


"Trust me, I'm okay. Um, how would it be any different, you and me headed
in their to get under the covers?"


"Um, about that?" Keb is ready to reveal false intentions.


Seconds later, Ethan and Jimi both appear.


Jimi wore the sheet around his waist, calling Alek's name, saying he was
sorry.


Ethan, he was sorry also, but looked guilty as hell, his shaft still hard
and trying to hide something like a pup tent, not being able to deliver a
just apology. Words didn't matter anyhoo, the two caught in the act.


Alek, he had mixed reaction. If he had thought deeply about it, he could
have rationalized everything after walking in on the two. From his own
sexual escapades in the park, what he was about to do with Keb wasn't any
different. The only difference this time, he had led Ethan on, that maybe
there could be a spark there which ignited a relationship of some
sort. Complicated confusion set in, Alek feeling like he was over the
rainbow or something.


With everything mashed together, like two pop tunes, one balancing the
other out, Alek finally reckons, "You have nothing to be sorry about. Uh,
did you even stop to wonder why Keb was with me?"


"Uh, lemme explain about that," Keb tries inserting himself into their
private business.


Then, it was like day one, Alek and and Ethan face to face, gazing at each
other like some hidden attraction. However, second time around, it wasn't
the case.


"So," Ethan says, "where do we go from here?"


"Well," Alek tells it like it is, "it looks like we've lost our fuck
buddies. If you didn't lose your load, we could pick up where you and Jimi
left off?"


"We could, but..." Ethan tread lightly.


"Oh," Alek suddenly realizes, Ethan caught, plugging Jimi's buttonhole.


Getting chummy with Alek again, seeing bygones as bygones, Ethan rubs both
hands up and down his arms, "I kind of realized, if I ever met a sweet,
handsome guy, I might have to break down and cool it with the labels."


Not Alek, he always had the frame of mind, if a dude wasn't a bottom, any
kind of relationship would not work. With Ethan's thoughts on his mind, it
might be the same for him, at least he was speculating, "It might be that
way for me too, only...not right now?"


"I think I could learn to live with that."


Though, Alek thinking about it, it wasn't the case at all, if Ethan was
trying to prove something to himself, caught with his shaft up Jimi's
butt. Then again, it fell back to his own shoulders and even though Keb
play a game, he didn't look at it as a game, only teen brainwashing, which
began in the park and trying to throw off the feeling he had to fuck a guy
just because his ass looked like `fucking material.'


He hated like hell to lose Ethan's admiration and was glad he was willing
to compromise, "So, did you see if Jimi and Keb went back to our room,
or..."


"Who the fuck cares!"


Alek had to side with Ethan on this one, "I agree!"


Now Alek had something to build on, thinking life doesn't throw things at
you, not to come out of hairy situations without a new perspective. A few
days away from hitting the ripe teen years of nineteen, it was a drop in
the bucket. From this point on, he had to dig into that deep hole and pull
out information which would mold him into the individual he hoped to
become. Now, he shucked stuff like that because agreed to himself he was
starting to sound too much like his father!


Walking in, seeing two heated dudes, going at it, Alek didn't leave it to
Ethan, "Okay, you two, off!"


Looking over the other bed, Keb, whom had been hovering over Jimi's bod
with his hips, says, "C'mon baby. It's their place."


They worked for the same company, had got to know each other pretty quick,
but 3 years difference, one of them found he didn't want to strike up a
romantic edge with someone not his own age, or more than a few months
between birthdays. Knowing the score, at least which was right for him,
Jimi says, "I guess this is it for us?"


Knowing those 3 years made a difference, Ethan held no grudge. In the
beginning, because they were often alone, together, being pawns in CK's
business force, it became as natural as mustard on a wiener, the two
getting overheated and result in shucking clothes, getting it on. First few
times gave way to it becoming an everyday association. Soon, it was like
expected of each other, when reporting for work everyday...the call to CK,
informing him they were on duty.


The way it went, Jimi would place his call first, then wait for Ethan to
get off his cell. It turned out that way, because it was Jimi who had the
balls first, to pick up his cell and make the dam call. Then, Ethan went
through hell, listening to CK, being told what to put on his agenda for the
day. Then it was torture, having Jimi goose him, hands diving down his
pants before he even stripped out of his suit jacket and shirt, while
trying to keep a stiff edge with CK, discussing the matters of the day.


The very first time Jimi had the notion, to tease Ethan, coming up at the
rear, wrapping both arms around, reaching up under the flaps of Ethan's
$500 suit jacket, weaving hands around to the crotch area of equally
matching pricey pants, then finding the crevice to sneak in, earned him an
elbow to the ribs.


Staying down, even though his stomach hadn't suffered too too much, a
workout guy, sixpack by the time he became a college grad, he faked being
much worse off.


No remorse came from Ethan. Judging by the way Jimi's bod looked, at the
company picnic, springing off the diving board, he could tell, Jimi's fake
job. However, playing along, he apologized, said he was sorry and the
proverbial pitch line, `if there's anything I can do to make it up for
you?'


Alek would never had guessed, saying to Ethan, "Damn, that Jimi sure is a
glutton!"


Like Ethan didn't know? That first time on the cell call to CK, ramming
Jimi's abs with his elbow? He would never live it down, Ethan apologizing
to Jimi, only to have the tables turned, Jimi saying it was all his fault,
that he owed Ethan?


Coming out of his stupor, memories of yesteryear, he watches as Alek
giggles, asking, "Did I miss something?"


Knowing Ethan was not totally with it, "Where were you that you did?"


Getting caught, figuratively speaking, `with his hands down his pants',
which had been the actual case of his first encounter, landing himself and
Jimi in bed, "It's complicated."


"Oh," Alek was wiser, "one of those stories...I'll get it out of you at
another time."


Kind of getting the gist of it, Alek following through on his vendetta, "I
know you will!"


It was comical though, and the two had to laugh their asses off, Jimi
sliding out from under Keb, grabbing clothing up in a wad, waving with both
hands for Keb to hurry it up. Jimi leading, the two scurried out rather
quickly, not bothering to suit up.


The day before there were two bunks in the cottage. Yesterday they came and
took one away. With only one bed available now, Ethan says, "Well, I guess
we better get to it."


"You make it sound like a chore," Alek says, taking Ethan's cue, a hand
paving the way into the bed.


"No," Ethan smiles, "the chore is about to come!"


However, it didn't turn out to be that way. By now the place reeked, which
had them decide on opening windows and leaving only the screen door
closed. Taking to the open air, Ethan and Alek took to rekindling their
efforts.


For Keb and Jimi, all they find was the shower area, giving away their
identities by being very noisy, Keb wailing about `the blowjob.' Almost
call by call, Alek and Ethan could figure out what they were up to. Keb had
already spent at least a minute or two, eliciting words of wonderment, Jimi
doing a spectacular job of tonguing up and down the sides of Keb's shaft,
even though it remained inside his mouth.


"Should we take bets on how long it'll take for Keb to shoot his load down
Jimi's throat?" Alek softly chuckles.


"Nah, I'd wager it's gonna wind up his chute!"


"I'll take that bet," Alek gambling, "because Keb's not gonna last that
long!"


True to Alek's thinking, Keb rants and raves so loud, probably they heard
him in Soda Flats, Ethan remarking, "Well, I guess I'm out of a coupla
hundred bucks!"


"You were going to gamble that much away?"


Then there was dead silence, which Ethan felt compulsive, "That's it?"


"For them!" Alek smiles a toothy grin.


%


Meanwhile, in the kitchen, with Ritchie neglecting chores to help Johnny
roll out enough scones for breakfast tomorrow, he neglected the usual
chores.


"What's happening in here?" Ernesto busts in, the two working fervidly.


With rolling pin in hand, working at a ball of dough, Ritchie looks around,
realizing a mess almost everywhere, where it should be clean as a whistle,
"Oops!"


With a tinge of anger and annoyance, the 32-year old, on the verge of
co-owning his business, with a different co-owner, barks, "You're supposed
to be cleaning up a mess, not making one!"


Zack, whom had been hanging with Ernesto since this morning, nonchalantly
picks up a scone off a tray and tastes, "Mm, this is good! Here, taste
one."


Thinking Ernesto could be swayed by chomping on one of the tasty treats,
Zack puts it right in the resort owner's face.


Like doing something wrong, `wrong place,' `wrong time,' is exactly what
happens, Ernesto swatting the pastry in Zack's hand like serving to
Djokovic.


Taken aback, everyone could see Zack's eyes bulge, responding with
surprise, "What the hell was that for?"


"I have no time for nonsense," Ernesto acts like Zack wasn't even there.


However, Zack was more sympathetic towards someone else, "Is that all you
have to say, when Johnny spent half the night making something which would
improve the cuisine here at your family restaurant?"


Ernesto could not deny, first time he lay eyes on Johnny, not a reaction
most gay dudes and hetero girls could not hide, the fact he was a drop-dead
gorgeous, blue-eyed, blond haired beauty, "All right. Give me one."


Even though Zack had already tried doing it, he motions for one of the two
behind the counter to hand the boss another.


Johnny would have done it himself, but right now he was scared-shit of
Ernesto, handing one on a napkin, to Ritchie, "Here. You give it to him."


"Thanks for allowing me to do the honors," Ritchie says, then off on a
different thought, "If I become deceased in the process, remember I love
you."


It set Johnny back a few pegs, but taking the second half of Ritchie's
comments in context, verbatim, to himself thinks, `Me too...love you,'
making him feel a little giddy. After all, they've only known each other
for a few hours and how on earth can two guys fall madly in love, in that
amount of time!


However, as scones go, regardless of good they are, can be flaky and dry,
if too much is stuffed in the mouth at once, "Wa-a-ah-ter!"


Whereas Ritchie was scared-shit, Johnny half as much, the two mellowed out,
watching Zack slap a hand to the top of Ernesto's back and then baby-feed a
glass of water, "You better be glad I'm here!"


After a few more coughs, a few sips, Ernesto was fine. In all honestly,
after he had tasted the tasty morsel, he wanted to alert, "Before you
attempted save my life..."


"What do you mean?" Zack went at Ernesto with a vengeance, "I saved your
life!"


In one respect, Ritchie sneakily says to Johnny, "Are we glad of that?"


All Johnny could think of, even though Ernesto seems to be mellowing out,
"He still scares me."


Ernesto `used to' hate it, anyone calling him anything but Ernesto, but let
Zack slide, "What is it?"


What they all say, was Ernesto warming up to Zack, only to find a flaw,
"Here, you eat, while I go take care of business."


Even thought shy, timid, Johnny hadn't liked the way Ernesto had yelled at
Ritchie and for once in his life got bold, "I can't believe you call
yourself a chef and you did't know what a scone looks like." Johnny
swallows, hoping he didn't gather too much wrath.


Ritchie, for one, was glad there was a counter between he and Johnny and
the rest of the kitchen staff, including Ernesto.


After clearing his throat, Ernesto, unused to being sassed, says, "What was
that?"


"What Johnny meant is," Zack, whom admired Johnny's incredible good looks,
coupled with his innocent ways, didn't want him, nor Ritchie pitched
anymore angry word, "since you're a damn good chef, uh, that once you
tasted these delicious donuts..."


Johnny even corrects, "They're not donuts, Zack. They're scones!"


"See?" Ernesto chimes back in, "you give them an inch and they take a
mile." Before he drops his thoughts, adds, "Ritchie, your fired!"


"What?" Ritchie says, flustered. "I can't be. I need the money and..."


"And you should have thought about that before you created this mess!"


Taking off his kitchen smock, Ritchie, now considered a former employee,
mocks, "Well fuck you Ernesto. It sucks working for you anyhow!"


"He's right, Ern," Zack coaches Ernesto.


However, thinking he has a chip in his back pocket, he stares at Johnny,
"How about you, John. You want his job, or are you too much of a sissy?"


"I got a job," Johnny replies, taking the apron off and walking around the
counter. Remaining adamant, "Besides, fortunately you're not my boss and
I'm not working for a guy who likes to yell at people!"


Turning to Zack, the only one left to listen, Ernesto says, "I wasn't
yelling, was I?"


"You were yelling," Zack calmly replies. "Your voice was quite elevated."


By this time, Johnny figures, if Ritchie is fired, he was too, which would
be kind of complicated, since it was not in Ernesto's jurisdiction to
execute such an order.


"Hmm," Ernesto looks around, seeing the normal cleanup, flour and other
powdery substances added to it, open milk cartons, canisters down from the
shelves, "I don't suppose you would mind giving me a hand cleaning this
up?"


He could very well have, but Zack was more bent on winning Ritchie back and
at least giving Johnny the benefit of the doubt, praise for his delicious
scones, whereas a chilling scream ruined the atmosphere, "No thanks!"


Left with the mess, Ritchie clearing out, Johnny headed back to pool duty,
Ernesto knew he would be in the kitchen until the wee hours of the morning,
plus the drudge in having to do a duty which he had hired others to do...


"Of course you can get Ritchie to come back, with the right incentive?"


"I thought you left," Ernesto did feel more than a void between the legs!


"I did, but I'm back."


Unknown to Ernesto, Zack had rushed off to catch Ritchie, before he drove
off the property. Getting Ritchie to stay, Zack had used `Johnny' as a
reference, saying the two had something going and it would be a shame to
break it up at such an early stage.


Ritchie agreed on that and even toyed with the idea of answering to someone
like Ethan or Jimi, rather than Ernesto. However, food service had been
Ritchie's main focal point and as Johnny had shown, being creative in the
kitchen had been his first objective, after working his way up the ladder.


Knowing he was being given the shaft, Ernesto stood there, arms folded over
pecs, "Oh good. I needed help cleaning this mess up `the boys' made!"


"Not exactly," Zack renders.


Conniving son-of-a-bitch he could be, as he did with any new hired hand,
Ernesto would work alongside a person, than get himself a cup of java and
become an overseer for the lone worker. When Zack didn't expand on his
assumptions, Ernesto asks, "Oh really? I was under the impression you came
back to help with this mess?"


Sly fox, Zack says, "There's more than one way a man can get what he
wants!" Coaxing Ernesto along, Zack mumbles in his ear, "Hard to beat the
price for 2 hot young men, working in an already heated environment, Ern?"


At least Johnny stood there, but he wasn't his cheerful self.


Zack's hands on Johnny's shoulders gave him comfort, but Johnny was still
on his guard.


"Johnny is willing to come back to the kitchen to work, on condition you
don't go shooting your big mouth off every time something goes wrong?"


His way of patching up relationships, Ernesto says, "Fine. Have this place
spic and span by tomorrow morning!"


Ritchie hadn't left quite yet. He had all intentions of driving out to the
main drag and leaving this place behind for good, but one good thing kept
haunting him, Johnny's face. It wasn't what he was doing to Johnny as much
as Ritchie doing to himself, figuring a `Johnny' doesn't come knocking at
your door every day!


Standing at the back door to the kitchen, Ritchie listened in and when he
thought the coast was clear, entered.


"Johnny?" Ritchie calls out, like in a small, apologetic tone.


"Ritchie!" Johnny's heart takes a leap, along with his feet responding,
"You're back!"


As it goes, Ritchie said if it meant taking whatever Ernesto dished out, he
would do it, along with apologizing to `the monster.'


%


Alex Nouguet and Cayman Karlyle were such good friends, when seen in
certain circles, they could pass for lovers. Such was the case, it was also
true in friendship and it worked out well when one or the other asked for a
favor.


The case, when Alex gave CK a call, telling him, a friend he had in NYC,
managed a coffee shop, which had changed hands, now was unemployed.


A lead in, CK had sought advice, which gave Alex cause to recommend `Derek'
in high accord, saying he would be of great asset to the development of
CK's empire on the west coast.


This is how Derek James, `DJ' Figlio became part of the CK crew out at the
Plaza di Campanelli, in Soda Flats.


Very quickly he had become absorbed into the crew, Adam taking a liking to
the 27-year old. He had felt bad immediately, already liking Tommy very
much. Then it was decided, by Tommy, they could make it as a trio of
friends - more if it came to that!


Then, when they first saw Scooter, in the dining hall, being introduced,
Tommy had second thoughts about forming a trio. Even though a different
generation, he followed their music - he and his trio members wouldn't last
as long as The Supremes...of course, `he' was `Diana'...then Tommy snapped
out of it, thinking how he could carbon copy the `Ooo-oo-ooooo-oo' of Baby
Love, shaking his head back to reality, focusing back on Scooter. He
smiled, one last reminisce, thinking of that old mop he had on his head,
pretending to be a lead singer...back to Scooter, he sighed at the thought
of a cub next to him in bed!


Very quickly, with Adam's help, Tommy offered Scooter a room, when there
wasn't any available. Then, with Derek showing up, an extra in the cast,
Adam could not possibly ignore the hot man!


Overcrowded in the cottage was not an issue.


Tommy and Scooter would not fit together in one twin-sized bunk. However,
Adam came up with the ingenious plan of pushing two together. It was
amazing, four able to fit in conjoined beds, whereas 1 would not hold 2!


"Everyone comfortable?" Adam stood at the door, ready to flick the light
switch off.


"Sure are," Tommy answers, arms around his cubby-bear!


"I'm a little cold," Derek tempts Adam into bed, "think we should light a
fire?"


Sometime during their love-making something weirdness began to
transpire. While Derek lay there, Adam sweetly kissing him, he felt
something wet on his ass crevice, "Is that you, Tommy?" he stops in the
middle of kissing Derek's neck.


Tommy giggles, "Yeah, my finger!" he giggles.


In itself, Tommy could be a real tease, but as Adam finds out, two is more
powerful than dynamite, "Okay, you guys," Adam sits up on his knees, hard
cock lying on Derek's bed of cock and balls, "what's up?"


Tommy, speaking for both, says, "Well, besides us," both cubs giggle, "the
bed is big enough for hugging, but not much more than anything else."


Derek, whom they were finding out could be feisty and funny, says, "Go on a
diet!"


"Permission to slap that boy," Tommy says.


"You can use my cropper," Scooter offers.


Derek suddenly sits up, almost knocking Adam over the edge of the bed, "You
got one?"


Adam inquires, "Have you ever felt a cropper on your butt, DJ?"


Derek truthfully answers, "No, but a buddy and me once traded off on using
a belt?"


"Okay," Adam thought on it, "I suppose it's not too much different."


Tommy, settled in for a nice night's sleep, is interrupted by Scooter's
excitement, "I have a harness...the whole outfit, if you want to play?"


Adam says with little enthusiasm, "I don't think he means playing Ken and
Barbie!"


Getting even, DJ and Adam laugh.


Tommy even gets more even, "Ken and Ken...now there's something I can work
with!"


That's not how it went.


While Adam and Tommy made sweet love, often interrupted by DJ's yelps and
Scooter's rendition of a tough son-of-a-gun whip-wielder, their early
morning period of sleep, after the place reeked of spent semen and Derek's
moaning from the ghastly application of a crop on his ass, Scooter returned
to Tommy's side, rather front and Adam applied balm to Derek's ass before,
finding out for himself, "I hope you don't get in these moods too often,
Derek?"


%


That night, or rather very early morning, while Ritchie and Johnny were
putting the last of the baking pans away, a torrential downpour occurs.


"Whats that?" Johnny looks up.


Scurrying for a deep pot, Ritchie says, "Nothing this can't
handle. Move...please?"


Johnny didn't mind Ritchie edging him out of the way of the drip hailing
down from the ceiling. Seeing another one across the room, Johnny grabs a
pot, "I got it!"


Making a dash for it, it was like Johnny had scooped up the drip before it
hit the floor.


Then it was like that for the next few minutes, taking up a pot, running
for a drip, or moving something which would not make it through the
rainfall, like some sacks of flour.


"Whew!" Johnny says, sitting on a stool.


"Yeah, me too. I think I'm ready for time out. How about you?"


Now, this was a predicament for Johnny, realizing Ritchie probably meant
something more than sitting there drinking Cokes, "You mean...sleep?"


Cutting a joke, Ritchie did mention Ernesto, eyes tired of watching them do
cleanup duty, almost falling off a stool while dozing, giving up, sneaking
out, "Would be nice, but someone's gotta monitor the bucket brigade?"


Thinking Ritchie was volunteering, or thinking it his duty, Johnny says,
"I'm not tired. I could help?"


"Thanks," Ritchie wanted to do more, but started with an arm around Johnny,
adding a sweet hug.


It seemed all he had time for, the first pot amply filled.


By late morning, around 4am, the rain let up, which had Johnny proclaiming,
"Hallelujah! I think it's stopped!"


It had, but the drips and drops continued to hamper the two from abandoning
their post.


>From juggling pots and pans all night, taking them out to empty, tracking
wet dirt, mud, back in, the two were tuckered out, Ritchie asking, "Still
not tired, Johnny?"


"I think I could sleep for a week!" Johnny slips his butt onto a stool.


Agreeing, being tired, Ritchie follows his lead. Now, attraction had
nothing to do with it, shoulder to shoulder, each expecting the other to
provide a brick wall.


Fate, that's what it had to be, the morning crew coming through the side
door, their usual entrance, Ernesto, all refreshed, walking in from the
dining area, "Oh my god! What the hell is this?"


For the two on stools, Johnny had still managed keeping his eyes open,
thinking how easy it would be to touch a guy who is almost asleep. Not now,
Ritchie jumping alert, to his feet. Turning around, they both faced the
epitome of an angry boss, Ritchie saying, "In case you didn't notice, the
drought has broken?"


Walking around the huge counter, which during kitchen cooking time was used
by nearly everyone on duty, Ernesto's shoes squeaked with every step, "Yes,
I know," like he expected miracles, "but why isn't this mess cleaned up?"


"Excuse me?" Johnny asks, like there was a chip on his shoulder.


Ernesto's reckless comment seemed to rattle Johnny in the wrong
way. However, since the morning crew added to his audience, "Well, if you
two didn't decide on making something off the menu, like creampuffs..."


"They were scones, for your information?" Johnny was already off his bench,
on the way to the confrontation.


Ritchie figures, if Johnny was going to get canned, he wasn't going to
allow him to go down alone, "Besides, Zack said..."


"Zack's not in charge here, I am!"


One more step and Ernesto's feet slipped right out from under him.


All were silent, as was the room, the accident seemingly shutting Ernesto
up!


One of the outsourced chefs, on the Soda Flats medical squad pushes between
two of his comrades, dropping to one knee. Taking some vitals, the neck,
wrist, he leans over.


Ritchie asks, "Is he gonna be okay?"


Slowly sitting up, a glum look on his face, the medic replies, "Not in this
lifetime, I'm afraid."


He then gets on his cell and makes the 911 call.


It was the first real time the guys, together, witness such a calamity,
Ritchie in tears, Johnny his crying towel.


Coincidentally, the police officer arriving with the med team, happened to
be the first person Ritchie lay eyes on when he hit town.


At the time, thankful for keeping Ritchie from most likely passing the
threshold between life and death, walking across the desert, his
thankfulness included giving the officer a hug. Under different
circumstances, Ritchie didn't use the name, `Quin,' everyone calling Office
Quinton by the nickname, but the more formal and official, "Officer
Quinton?"


"Ritchie," Quin recognizes him, "it's been a while?"


Right off, Johnny sensed they weren't in trouble.


"Yes, it has," Ritchie replied, the two exchanging handshakes.


Pause often reflected something on either one or the other's mind, but
Johnny didn't need to wait around, spotting a familiar face, "Zack!"


Running around the big table, Zack, being the only face he knew, other than
Ritchie, he treats like a long, lost friend, "This is horrible...Ernesto
is..." he stops, not knowing if the deceased were friend or lover.


"I suspect so, Johnny," Zack puts a reassuring arm over Johnny's shoulder,
realizing he's too hyper for having been up all night.


>From the time he set foot through the dining door, and having notice the
police officer standing there, Zack's gay-radio had been tuned in to the
right frequency.


Ritchie must've said something already, Quin reaching out for Zack's hand,
"I'm sorry for your loss."


Yeah, originally Zack had thought something could come of their friendship,
but he noticed Ernesto not feeling himself over the past two days, which
had him saying, "Thanks, but we really didn't have a connection."


"Oh really?" Quin acts like a dog, ears perking up.


Zack senses confidence in the reaction and since the policeman was still
keeping his hand jailed up, "Yeah. In fact, it will be interesting to find
out what the autopsy has to say."


"Oh?"


Loving how the cop was all questions, provoking Zack to stare longer,
"Right. Last night he wasn't feeling good, Ern saying he had a little
indigestion. He went right to bed."


Quin wanted to interrogate, `who's bed,' but now it didn't matter, "Well,
yes then, that autopsy should be of interest to clear up matters here."


Zack, "Uh, no disrespect for the dead, but in a couple of hours there will
be more dead to investigate, which I know will turn up they `died of
hunger,' unless we allow the crew to get to work?"


Right at that moment, the bag had been removed, Quin taking command, "No
reason why you can't get started and me..I could sure use a cup of java!"


Quin did question, how this place got to be such a wreck and decides to use
any other questions as `part of the ongoing investigation', until they can
get an autopsy report.


Lo and behold, from not only Ritchie and Johnny, but the kitchen crew, a
picture was drawn of how the place was slowly being driven into the ground.


"I can almost guess," Zack had put a pot on the stove, "there's motive
behind why Ernesto took Cayman's buyout plan."


"Ernesto and his partner sold the place?"


"Correction. Ernesto, without his partner. They separated yesterday or the
day before. Wait a minute, what's today?" Zack was confused, take it all
the goings on around here.


"Two days before the 4th of July give you a hint?"


Just the fact Officer Quinton still hung around was enough of a hint for
Zack, but knew that was not the answer to his question. Though, it did
provide an in for Zack, "I suppose you're working the 4th, huh?"


"Nah. I always work around the rest year on my schedule so I can have
Holidays off with the family."


"Oh," it had Zack's heart and soul going down with the Titanic, "you're
married?"


Quin was no dummy, knowing exactly how they both were skirting around the
truth, "Bet you're glad I'm not!" he sat there, smug smile on his face.


Two could play that game, "Y'know, you look awfully hot in that uniform?"


A little evil filling Quin's smile, he says, "You into `uniforms', per se?"


Going out on a limb, one which could snap and land him in the pokey, Zack
says, "Damn, what I could do to you, out of it!"


"I have a mind to give you the chance!"


So, now, it had been answered, indirectly derived by working around the
fringe, "How about tonight?" Nick answers, without any inhibitions.


"Well, it would mean giving up `poker night' with my family, but I suppose
they can do without me, plus save them all giving up the weekly salary?"


>From the morning coffee klatch, while one team cleaned up, the other
making the most modest of breakfasts they could throw together, Zack found
out much about Quin, mainly his first name was `Everett'.


"Everett," Zack tries it out, "I like the sound of it," but he was liking
more whom it was attached to!


"Is it `Zachary'?"


"It better not be, if you don't want me to change my plans of what I'm
gonna do to you when I strip you out of that uniform!"


He laughed, but it sent chills up and down Everett's spine, thinking of
what he would `like' to have done!


Zack was wondering, why `Everett' hadn't taken off, but he was on his way
back to headquarters, at the end of his shift, when the call came through
and since there were only so many officers, spread thinly throughout the
Soda Flats community, he took it upon himself to get `overtime', knowing he
would never see the extra pennies in his bank account!


"You sound like a nice guy."


"Oh, I am," Everett show he was, firming up the collar of Zack's shirt,
"but don't take my word for it!"


"Trust me, I intend to find out!"


Throwing a line out, hoping it didn't dull what they had built up so far,
Everett says in a soft tone, "And if I'm not that willing to talk?"


It had been Zack's dream, from eons ago, fucking a cop, in or out of
uniform, while incapacitated, "Hmm, you might just be the scratch for my
itch!"


"Ok," Everett says, "maybe I'll see ya later."


Drawing Everett further into his web, Zack entices, "You better, or pay the
price!"


Later on in the day, they did text back and forth, Everett's last question,
should he wear his uniform, when he came calling?


It would have been nice to knock back, take it easy and follow each others'
lead, but whereas Everett's graveyard shift were ending, Zack's day started
clicking.


"So, what do we do?" one of the `outsource' chefs asks.


Looking like a herd of lost sheep, Zack employs his command skills, much
like back at London West, "There has to have been some rank of command
amongst the kitchen staff?"


Stepping forth, a tall lad, dark hair, closely cropped beard, two things
which stood out in Zack's mind, separates from the crowd, "When Sean
left..."


"Sean?" Zack questions in his mind, not recalling.


"Ernesto's partner, whom I have to say, wasn't exactly a popular component
to the workings of the kitchen, I think my fellow employees can vouch for
that?"


Low spoken cheers agree...


"Well, when that scene happened, Ernesto unofficially appointed me to head
up the kitchen staff."


He was cute, to say the least, but Zack sensed confidence, in which he
guessed, "What're you, 26? 27?"


"I don't see where that would matter, considering my qualifications?"


He liked the dude's moxie!


"Oh? And exactly what are your qualifications, um?"


Both suddenly realize, formal introductions have not been met, "I'm Lucas
Brisson." Then proudly, but not putting on any airs, "I started on my
bachelor's degree in english, but switched to business and on the side,
cooking as a hobby. Well, as you can tell," he adds on a lighter note, "I
haven't gone starving!"


He knew, upon interviewing a candidate, keep a straight face, until it
looked like he was man for the job, at which point Zack smiles, "From what
I can see?"


Of course, Zack had a slight case of the `lusts' over parts not in plain
sight...thinking again, would be a damn shame if this boy were not gay!


Unlucky for Zack, he wouldn't immediately find out, Jimi busting in, Ethan
right behind him, "I just heard about Ernesto!"


Seeing the writing on the wall, or, `eyes on the prize', Zack knew he was
instantly out of the running, Jimi's eyes all up and down Lucas' fine outer
shell.


Instead of dwelling on what was not to be, Zack says, "Oh, by the way,
Jimi, I kind of, like, took responsibility over things, being there wasn't
anyone around grab hold of the situation, with Ernesto out of the picture,
if that's okay?"


Ethan leans into Jimi's ear, "I think that means he's appointed himself
`boss!'"


"Fine," Jimi replies.


Seeing the condition of the kitchen, Ethan asks, "What happened here,
anyway?" He might as well get the scoop, knowing he had to report back to
CK, when he arrived.


Seeing Ritchie and Johnny wielding mops, but more moping about, Zack
excuses the two.


Ritchie, before leaving the kitchen, wasn't taken aback so much about the
leaky roof, but with gumption says, "By the way, Johnny thought up the
recipe for the scones, if anyone wants to know?"


Since Jimi had no qualms about him taking up the reins, Zack says, "Good
job, Johnny. Scones are super."


After Johnny thanks him, the two are off to find a place to lay their
heads.


Then Zack throws a big hint, "Would be a damn shame to allow either of
those assets to slip through our hands, Jimi?"


That's what Jimi was thinking about Lucas!


"Of course. I'll make a note of that, thanks."


Not one to stand around and throw the whip over the backs of the laborers,
Zack joins in, manhandling an unused mop.


An unusual morning, it was deemed the kitchen unfit to serve food out of,
so the crew was sent out to seek and find breakfast.


Jimi watched, mainly because Lucas were too damn cute to allow his vision
to wander, taking mental notes concerning job performance. He figures,
Lucas could have very well done what he was thinking, gotten cozy, whereas
things could take a leap into more romantic matters. Wasn't the case, Lucas
more interested in orders of coffee, breakfast foods, fruit and how the
food presentation would be served.


"Looks like you have everything well in hand, Lucas?" Jimi adds a smile.


"I learn by experience," Lucas replies, directing the loading of tables
into a truck, "plus, it helps to know my way around town."


The whole kitchen crew added their little bit of expertise, like knowing
the joint up the highway, which served up about a thousand cups each
morning.


Jimi loved it when someone else would take hold, making his job
easier. Yet, he knew the praise would fall on his shoulders, when CK hailed
his efforts. With second thought, about Lucas, maybe he'd give him some of
the credit!


That morning was special in that, even though it were not a more formal
breakfast set up, CK was present, along with his architect, attorney and of
course his standby's, Chico, Jimi and Ethan. Added to the upper management
was Oscar and Nick.


Having been forgiven for leaving his host tied up, later CK thought about
it, thinking it one of the most lucrative jerk-offs he ever had. Not the
only thing, he was tasty for more of the double treat Nick and Oscar left
him with.


People knew of CK's gay lifestyle, not much about other kinky stuff he
liked to take pleasures in, therefore wanting to play only with guys who
could keep a secret. That be the case, Oscar had plenty of them - secrets!


Of those sitting to the right and left of him, most knew of CK's
quirks. Often at a meeting in his office, CK's architect, Antonio Fandozzi,
would dim the blinds and pull a chain of clamps out of the middle draw of
his desk and `make' CK wear them throughout the meeting. After
presentations were over, Antonio would take things to the next level.


Right now, things were all business and conducted as so, being there were
no mini-blinds to hide behind!


Poor Jimi, not only one of CK's standby's, a little lesser in rank, his
official title was secretary. Typing away into his laptop, there weren't
many gaps to steal more than a sip of coffee. A former model, it was such a
tease not to return the glimpse of any dude looking over the laptop lid!


Chico sat next to Jimi, which Jimi hated, because if it looked like he
missed any little detail, he'd get a nudge in the ribs. Spelling was a
downfall too. Because Jimi liked to use his own shorthand, he would turn
off the spellchecker. He doesn't know how many times he's informed Chico,
"I'll know what it is later, trust me!"


Next to Chico was the man himself. Even though CK believed in rewarding his
employees, on the other side of the coin, if something went south, Chico
was the one to hear about it.


More senior an employee than Ethan, if something was handed down to him as
being par or less so, Ethan would hear it from Chico. With anyone, rarely
CK would lash out at them. No, it had to be Chico and Chico? He could
really deliver, though not as rough was his discipline as his fucking!


Between Fandozzi and CK, sat his attorney, Alan Mornay. He looked like the
type of guy whom could be easily duped, but someone just try it! If a dude
did Alan dirty, he would find a way to land you in jail. Saying that, the
28-year old was a real nice guy, though highly sought out for his heavy
fucking skills!


At the other tables, there were some complaints about the food not up to
par, but some had things more on their mind than filling their stomachs,
unless it was with creamy goo!


"I'd like to do everyone of `em up there," Deric says on the sly, not
interested in eating, but drinking...coffee, a kick up in his morning
exercise regiment. Possibly it could have been a hand in his lap, helping
him in the choosing of who would be first, counting out pushups!


"You're so selfish," Tom laughs, but meant it.


"Okay," Deric suddenly become generous, "you can have CK."


It did make Tom wonder, "What's wrong with CK?"


"Nothing," Deric says nonchalantly, "it's just that all the others have
more going for them!"


"Any `one' in particular?"


"Yeah," Deric says with high opinion, "that fuckin' dreamy attorney. I'd
like to slam his balls to the wall and hammer his ass!"


"Now, `that' I'd like to see!"


"See what?" Drew sits down with a plate full.


"Deric, he's gonna pound CK's attorney," Tom says.


"Great," Drew replies to that, "I'll take the luscious architect!"


Though, if it ever got to that, Drew would find Fandozzi a hard man to back
down. Though, Fandozzi has had some of those moments when he's met his
match, backing down, halfway, talking the other into 6-9 matchup.


Most of the others, they talked about what perspective plans could be on
the drawing board.


Seeing Ethan up there at the main table, Alek felt proud. Though, there was
little to see of him in action, other than talking with CK or the others
around him.


One of the things which interested him, was catching Ethan last night with
Jimi. Wondering if there was more to it than meets the eye, only time would
tell. He wasn't at all perturbed about it, thinking he spent much time with
Jimi, professionally and knows how it can be, feeling lonely and with only
one other person to turn to when becoming horny. Probably another sway
towards this opinion, Jimi happened to be on the same plane as Ethan,
`drop-dead gorgeous!'


Glenn is temporarily startled, looking up when he hears, "This seat taken?"


Cutest guy he's ever seen with glasses, Glenn moves the modest belt he was
wearing, containing a few cutting tools and the harness for a chainsaw,
"Funny, I haven't seen you around here?"


Not really taking the bait, the young lad says, "I'm new."


Sitting down, he went right to work on his eggs.


"I'm Glenn," Glenn realizes he's not going to get much out of the dude,
unless he starts, "Glenn Bateau."


Recognizing something in the word, "`Boat'."


"Yeah," Glenn admits, "there's some French in our family."


What started as a singled out word, turns into conversation, "Me too. Our
family names is Cavanau. I'm Cain."


"Cavanau? Isn't that..."


"Yeah, but Ethan doesn't want anyone knowing I'm his cousin."


Saying it, like he felt it, Glenn asks, "I'm sure there's a story to that."


However, the 18-year old wasn't into sharing, "It's complicated."


Glenn giggled, knowing it was time to button up the lips. On one hand, it
seemed Cain didn't have an interest in him, but he took it off the cuff,
knowing he was new to the crew. Though, ten minutes from then he had a
different sway of opinion, thinking a few times he caught Cain checking him
out.


Finally, it must've paid off for Cain, "What is it you do around here?"


"Hmm," Glenn knew it was directed at him, claiming hard-of-hearing, "what
was that?"


"What is your job around here?"


Seeing Cain open up, Glenn resets his butt to the seat of the chair,
turning slightly, "For the past few years it's been landscaper, but when
they found out I'm a former geologist for the USGS, they think they may
have a greater need."


High school graduate, though much trouble pulling a `C' average, Cain says,
"That's about exploring the world, right?"


"You're partially right," Glenn replies. "More, it's about what the earth
holds for those who study below the ground."


"Fossils?"


"That and rocks in general, but also the lay of the land, which has to do
with shifting plates and tectonics."


"What's tec-what was that?"


"Tectonics," Glenn replies and with his hands show how the earth's plates
shift around.


He was also amazed, outside the world of science, how a person became
interested.


"You go to college for that?"


"I did, but my interest started long before. I guess you can say it so
consumed me, I wanted to learn more and that's what college started me on,
a lifelong journey to find all the mysteries which are below the place we
stand on."


"You sound like a smart guy?"


Even though Glenn was 25-years old, he could relate to younger guys, after
teaching at summer camp and guest speaker at high school science
fairs. Though, he had to admit to himself, Cain was one of the `hottest'!


"Me, smart? I suppose, but I didn't get that way sitting on my butt. If you
want to better yourself, you've got to get out there and do it." Five
seconds later, Glenn was thinking about the high-schoolers he's addressed.


"I'm not a little kid anymore, but I haven't found anything I'm really
interested in."


Glenn could tell, thinking Cain being 16 or 17, saying, "Well, you better
find out, because high school is where it starts and when you graduate..."


"Wait," Cain places his hand on Glenn's forearm, "how old do you think I
am?"


It's then Glenn bit a lip, "Well, uh, um, I thought maybe you were already
in college, but..."


"Don't lie," Cain called it.


With a stiff upper lip, not which his cock was already headed in that
direction, Glenn fesses-up, "Okay, so I thought you were still in high
school...forty lashes with a wet noodle!" he laughs.


Cain wasn't taking it so humorous, thinking `something', "Really? You're
into that stuff?"


"Stuff? Like what stuff are you thinking?"


Since Glenn didn't respond in the favorable way Cain was thinking, he shied
away, "Never mind. What about the geo-stuff?"


Glenn didn't get into much, Sam coming around to call, "Ready for your
first day at Soda Flat Resorts, Cain?"


Each exchange the same parting response, Cain getting the last dibs in,
"Yeah, see ya later."


Ethan had thought it best, placing Cain with Sam, confident he could whip
both boys, Jaeson included, into `good citizen' shape.


Made to embarrass, while Sam walked the two outdoors, he purposely made
known each of their transgressions...


"So, Cain, how old were you when you first tried drugs?"


Jaeson should have kept his mouth closed, excitedly saying, "Cool, you did
drugs, Cain?"


"Not so cool," Sam says and in the middle of the forest, "give me 20
pushups."


"What the fuck? I ain't doin' no..."


Usually, Sam knew, punishing one guy, the other would get the hint. Taking
his walking stick, an ordinary dead branch, he slaps hard across Jaeson's
abs.


"Ug-g-g-gh-oh-shit," he falls to his knees, both hands clutching around the
stomach.


Sam wasn't finished. Cain watching in disbelief, he walks behind Jaeson,
places a foot against his back, saying, "Good start!"


Next, Jaeson found himself eating dirt, with a mix of dead leaves, twigs
and who knows whatever else some insect or animal left behind.


"Are you allowed to do that?" Cain asks.


Right or wrong, Sam says, "Just be glad it wasn't you!" he taps the branch
on his other hand. Then, like nothing transpired, "We'll count that as your
first pushup. Next?"


Cain had his own plan, but at this moment was rewriting it in his head. For
certain, he didn't want to show up at the pool with lines across his
stomach, that is if Sam allowed them to mix with the others at all. For
now, he was playing it cool. Though, it didn't escape him, if Sam lay a
hand on him, he'd do the same as he did to his old man.


When Cain was in his mid teens years, life started to take a toll on
him. He couldn't concentrate in school and was almost flunking every
subject. He got into the wrong crowd, drinking and drugs; older guys with
all the ins and outs of gay sex.


One night, one of his chums came home with him. Unknown to the father, whom
could be quite violent for no reason, or his own reasons, lashed out at
Cain. His friend jumped the father and the two brought him down. Knocked
unconscious, yet still breathing, they dragged him down to the
basement. Tying him to a chair, Cain's friend asked if he wanted to have
some fun doing stuff to his father, but Cain said make sure he was tied
tight and leave him.


Within that bad choice, still it was good Cain didn't intend on harming
him, not like the father had done to him, with belt and fists.


Two days after that incident, Cain's father was missed at work and without
response to a cell call, others sought after him.


Growing up in a motherless situation, when no one answered the door at
home, Ethan keyed the door for the police. As left, they found the father
in the basement, tied to a chair, sack over his head, more dehydrated and
hungry, than anything else.


A result of no bruises or other injuries, except a headache, it didn't go
too bad for Cain in court. He and his buddy were put in rehab, followed by,
Cain called it, `community-waste-of-time,' stabbing someone else's garbage
with a blunt point. Easily bored with mundane duties, it humored Cain,
picking the tough guy out of the crowd of offenders, drawing the
garbage-gathering tool back, and when not looking, heaved the bulky,
buttplug-replicated handle, into the dude's stomach. He wanted to laugh,
but Cain, putting on his acting skills, acted remorseful, `I'm so, so,
sorry, that it was an honest mistake,' when on the inside, Cain's balls
were churning with glee. Good show, others felt it was an honest accident
and Cain was off the hook, even the cowboy apologizing to Cain for getting
in his way!


It was also discovered, Cain's father at fault, whereas years of bullying
and torture became the norm for Cain's schooling years. As a result, Ethan
became Cain's guardian. Probably the happiest years of his life have been,
living with Ethan. Like Ethan, Cain has been exposed to some really nice
gay `scenery', accompanying Ethan when he's gone on business, at the
mansion and other places where hot models were present.


Back to Sam, after years of all that shit, no one else was going to take
advantage of him, was on Cain's mind. Though, he now knew, violence wasn't
the answer. Maybe when Sam wasn't looking, he'd put a bug in his coffee!


%


Copyright 2015 T. Chase McPhee


`ALeK iN wONdeRfULaNd', and developing segments of this story, may not be
sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the
author.