Date: Mon, 09 Apr 2007 17:02:50 -1000
From: S turner <scotty.13411@hotmail.com>
Subject: Strange Bedfellows, Chapter 24

STRANGE BEDFELLOWS
Chapter Twenty Four

Disclaimer: This story is a largely fictional account of the author's
relationships and experiences while he was a college student at the
University of Wisconsin.  It occasionally contains somewhat graphic scenes
of sexual activity between consenting men and other men, and sometimes men
and women.  (In fact, this chapter contains at least one scene that many of
this tale's most loyal readers have been harping after for quite a long
time.  No fair reading ahead, guys!)  If such material doesn't float your
boat, or if it offends you, please move on to something else.  If it is
illegal to possess or to read such material in your jurisdiction, you must
move on to something else.  Either that or move to another jurisdiction.
The work below is copyrighted, 2007, by the author, and may not be
reproduced, reprinted or reposted without his expressed written permission.




Four college guys, each one on a budget, but all of them on a mission to
have a good time during spring break, arrived in New Orleans on a Sunday
morning in March.  The only debate they'd had in the planning was whether
it would be Super 8 or Motel 6 once they got to the `Big Easy.'  Scott won
on the Super 8.  Neither chain offered coffee in the room.  But at least
Super 8 had continental breakfast in the lobby.  He'd done some work on Map
Quest and shown the guys that there were a couple of moderately priced
double hotel rooms not too far from the French Quarter.

The check-in had to be record time for the Super 8 staff.  Craig had
argued, without much argument, that they'd put the entire hotel tab on his
card so that he could cash in on a few more miles before they expired with
the Capitol One goons, and they'd each pay him back in cash.  They had
their bags, several coolers of alcohol, Marty's magic stash hidden wherever
he had it hidden and their party attitudes.

Because the card was his, Craig handled the check-in and distributed the
keys.  "Here's you and me, Scotty."  He handed Scott a pass key.  "And
these," he handed the other two to Brett, "are for Laverne and Shirley.
You're right across the hall."

Marty was in the corner of the lobby on his cell phone.  "Yeah Babe!  I'm
gonna, but not now.  We just got here.  We'll all deal with it when we get
back.  It's gonna be okay.  You trust me, don't ya'?  Good.  Feeling okay?
Good.  Kiss my little angel and I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?  Love you
too.  Bye."  He slid the phone back into his pocket.

Scott stood at the rack of postcards and pulled out one of the bigger,
five-by-seven inch ones.  It had a watercolor of a jazz quartet.  He asked
the desk clerk for a pen.  "The weather is beautiful.  I wish you were
here," he neatly printed.  He smirked, and switched the pen to his other
hand.

Marty stepped up beside him.  "Uhm, Scott, you're not left-handed, you
know?"

He nodded.  "Yup, but I want the second part of this to look like I was
drunk when I wrote it.  It's for Gran'."  He scribbled, "I mean: The
weather is here, I wish you were beautiful.  Love, Scotty."

Marty giggled and patted his back.  "Gimme that."  He took the pen, and
wrote across the bottom, "Not to worry, Evelyn.  I've got my eye on him,
and we set aside enough cash in case we need to make bail.  Love ya',
Marty."

Scott looked at the clerk.  "Do you have a first class stamp?"

Marty shook his head and nudged his arm.  "You don't need first class for a
post card."

"You do if you want the card to get there before you see the recipient
again."  He dropped some coins on the counter, affixed the stamp and slid
it back.  "Will you drop this in the outbound mail, please?"

Brett took over.  "Okay, men.  It's early.  I propose we unload our stuff,
take a nap for a couple of hours, then go and tear apart Pat O'Brien's.
I've got a hankering for a Hurricane."

"Hurricanes?  Aren't those, like, nearly all rum?" Craig smiled.

Brett gave him a thumbs up.  "Thus, the nap.  I want to be a wide awake
drunk tonight."



They were lying naked, on opposite ends of Kip's single bed.  Kip was
leaning back against the short headboard, and Glenn was propped against a
pillow held in place by the dresser at the foot of the mattress, his legs
entwined with his new American friend.  The sixty-nine session had lasted
nearly a half hour.  Kip was still recovering from Saturday night's
emergency procedure, and it would still be a while before anything, or
anyone, would be able to penetrate him.  For his part, Glenn looked forward
to the opportunity of wrapping his legs around his taller new friend and
getting a good, thorough riding.  But for this afternoon, the mutual oral
satisfaction was just what they both needed.

"So, let me see if I got this straight.  Last fall, this Marty fellow set
you up to take the pictures of you and this other guy, and then he used
them against you a few times.  No cash or sex or anything, just to get you
to `do certain things' as you put it?"

Kip shrugged in agreement.  "Yup.  That's about it."

"But you don't want to tell me about those certain things."

"Nope.  That crap's all behind me, and it's all irrelevant.  It wasn't
anything bad or illegal or anything like that."

"And then you used your favored position for that appointment to this
Regents group as a way of getting the disk back.  You basically traded with
Scott...the appointment for the pictures?"

"Basically, yeah."

"And now your brother has those pics, too?"

Kip took a sip of water and nodded.  "He lifted them off my computer at
home and emailed them to himself.  And that promises to pretty much put me
at his mercy.  I'm sure he's gonna try to use me and abuse me, pretty much
at will, as long as he has them."

Glenn curled his lip and wrinkled his nose in disgust.  "I can tell you
regret it, so I won't beat you up for not getting rid of them as soon as
you got `em back from this Marty character.  But, Kip, if you don't mind my
asking, has this stuff between you and Chas been goin' on long?"

Kip breathed deep.  "From about the time I was twelve or thirteen.  Like a
lot of big brothers, I suppose, he taught he how to jack off, and a lot of
times we'd do it together, a couple times a week.  At the time, like a lot
of little brothers, I suppose, I worshipped the ground that Chas walked on.
And, I guess, at that age, to have my idol share something so personal and
good-feeling like that hit me in all the right spots.  By the time I hit
high school, we'd gone from jacking each other off to me blowing him
whenever he wanted.  He'd call and I'd come running, like a fucking little
puppy dog."  Glenn looked down in sadness and slowly shook his head.

Kip was staring off into nowhere as he continued.  He'd never discussed
this part of the family history with anybody, and it felt good to be able
to dump his bucket to someone as safe as Glenn.  There was an unusual
comfort with the Australian.  He was, in Kip's eyes, incredibly hot.  But
he was also a sensitive, sincere and attentive listener.  Plus, he'd be
leaving for Melbourne in a week.  There was no risk in Kip baring his scars
to this new friend.

"Then, sometime in my sophomore or junior year in high school, when he was
already here at college, he took my virginity from behind. And, even then,
I liked it.  I deny it to him now, but the truth is, I really liked it.  We
did it practically every time he was home from college, and once with a
buddy of his while I visited him here for a weekend."

They survived a few moments of silence and Kip felt a soft shudder in
hearing his own words.  He inhaled deeply again.  "But then, somewhere
along the line, it started feeling nasty.  It became obvious that the
affection I thought was a part of those experiences with a guy I adored
wasn't there.  After a while, I was pretty sure that it never had been
there.  Luckily, then he got married and started leaving me alone."  He
chuckled, "Although how in the hell that frigid bitch whose going to bear
his child could ever satisfy anyone is waaaay beyond me."  Glenn smiled and
nodded his understanding, even though he'd never met Charlene. "I try to
avoid being alone with him whenever the family gets together these days.
But I've been pretty much forced into a couple of unhappy scenes with the
bastard the past few months."

Glenn patted Kip's foot.  "I'm sorry, Kip.  Really sorry."

"And, now that he has those pictures, and is threatening to hand them over
to my father any time I don't do what he wants, when he wants..." He
shuddered again.  "Uuuuuuuugh!"

Glenn swung his feet across Kip's legs and they hit the floor.  He found a
pair of shorts that had been peeled off of him an hour earlier and stepped
into them.  "Real shitty deal there Kipper, but I think I can help you out.
That is why you asked about computer worms and viruses and the like,
right?"

It sounded like `roit,' and it made Kip grin again.

"You got it, mate."  He winked at Glenn with his own use of the Aussie term
of endearment, and Glenn snickered his approval.  "So, it could be done?"

Glenn booted up his laptop and nodded.  "Well, it would have to go to him
in the form of a Trojan horse program.  It's something that looks harmless
enough, and the bad stuff has to be at the root kit level in order to get
around any antivirus protection your brother probably has.  The trick is to
send him something he'd be willing to open, because the effect you're
looking for always requires some sort of action on his end, like opening a
program, in order to execute the Trojan.  Once he does, the destructive
element would reformat his hard drive completely at reboot."  He stopped
clicking on the keys and looked up.  "You following this?"

Kip grinned.  "Mostly not, but it doesn't matter.  You seem to know what
you're doing.  How would it get to Chas's computer?"

The question showed that at least Kip was thinking.  "Aaahh, that's one of
the tricks.  It would have to look friendly, but still be hard to trace
back to its origins."  He nodded at Kip's computer.  "Obviously, it
couldn't come from here, and I'm not real big on sending it from my email,
either."

Kip smiled.  "Got ya covered I think.  You know that I work in the computer
lab.  Well, if a student fucks up there, accessing evil stuff through one
of the university's computers, we sometimes have to revoke their log-in
rights for a time.  After the penalty has expired, we also reinstate those
same rights.  Every semester, we have to update the students' identities
and email accounts through the UW's email for new students, or cleaning out
those who have left all together.  So, I'm one of the guys who can create
an identity, give it a user name and a log-in.  And, it's spring break.
The place is basically empty for the week.  Would it work if I made up the
name of a non-existent student, and `he' emailed it to Chas under the
subject of something like `Calling All UW Crew Alumni?'  Chas captained the
team for two years when he was here, and I'm sure he'd open up something
like that.  Especially if he saw `uw.edu' in the sender's identity, even if
he didn't recognize the name."  Glenn smiled and nodded enthusiastically as
he manipulated the curser around the screen and continued to click away.
"So, I create a bogus student with a UW identity.  You log in as that
student and send the e-poison to my loving brother, and then I go back in
and delete that same student from the system.  Would that work?"

Glenn giggled.  "I love this shit, you know?"  He looked up and nodded.
"It would."



Andy had finished with the morning's mail for the firm, signing where his
assistant Marjorie had left the little tabs.  He'd scheduled time to work
on the Regents' next meeting and dug into the mailbox of stuff that "Marge"
had left from the university.  There was a nicely embossed envelope from
the College of Letters and Sciences.

"On behalf of the faculty and staff of the Political Science Department of
the University of Wisconsin, I am pleased to invite you to join us in
honoring the distinction of the newest member of the proud family of
LaFollette Scholars, Mr. Scott Turner, Jr.  The annual LaFollette
Scholarship Luncheon will take place at 12:30 p.m. on Wednesday, April 11
in the Great Hall of Memorial Union."  The rest of the invitation provided
a short program and list of speakers, including the Honorable Theodore
Hackett and historian, and previous LaFollette Scholar, Stephen Ambrose.

"Very impressive," Andy muttered.  He thought for a minute as he tapped the
corner of the invitation against his chin and then picked up the phone.

"Marge, I want to make a small adjustment in my April Regents schedule.
Keep the full Board's meeting on the 25th, but add `Final Action on Budget
Committee Recommendation' to the agenda.  Then, I want you to prepare a
meeting notice and agenda for the Budget Committee.  We'll meet on the
11th, at 1:00 p.m.  Single-item agenda, if you will: final action on the
budget recommendation.  Print them off, but don't meter and mail them.
I'll take care of that myself.  I want to tuck a few personal notes in the
committee members' notices.  They've worked so hard, and gone above and
beyond this spring, and I want to thank each of them.  Bring them in for my
signature once you have them ready.  Then, please call Ellison Cushing with
my regrets that I won't be able to attend the LaFollette Scholars'
Luncheon, owing to Regents' business.  Finally, will you call my accounting
consultants and schedule one last meeting for a couple hours between now
and then?  I just want to go over the finer points of the budget.  Make it
the week before the 11th.  Thanks Marge.  You're the best."

Twenty minutes later, Marjorie brought the committee meeting notices in.
"Sir, should I just meter and mail the agendas to the other members of the
Board?"

"Ah, yeah, go ahead."  He held up the other five notices for the committee
members.  "I'll take care of these and put them in today's mail.  Thanks,
Marge."  On the first three, to Milford, Comstock and Mason, he initialed
next to his name on the committee notice, folded it in with the second
agenda for the full Board meeting, and sealed the envelope.

Then, he called Abby Svendsen in Wausau.  "Abby, it's Andy Pennington.  How
are you feeling?"

She was cautious.  "Oh, fair to middlin' today, Andy.  And how are you?"

"Very well, thanks.  Hey, I won't keep you long.  I was just checking in to
see how you were doing.  I'm working on the April calendar for the Board.
We're looking at the next full meeting on the 25th.  Think you're going to
be up to traveling by then?"

There was a pause.  "Well, I would hope so, but I doubt it would be much
sooner.  I'm glad you're aiming for the end of the month."  He wrote across
her committee meeting notice, `Per phone conv., says she can't attend on
4-11.'  He dated it and slid the single page into a file folder with her
name on it.

"Well, that's fine.  I'm sending the meeting notice and agenda out in
today's mail, so you should be getting it in a day or two.  I hope you'll
be able to make it.  We've missed your contributions to the discussions.
You take care now.  G'bye!"  Before Abby could say a word, the line went
dead.

Andy sealed Abby's envelope containing only the agenda for the 25th.  Then
he folded both notices to Scott and sealed them as well.  He walked over to
the mailroom.  He ran all five envelopes through the mail meter to stamp
them with the proper postage and the day's date.  Four of the five got
tossed into the "out" hopper.  Scott's was returned to the center drawer of
his desk.

He grabbed his suit coat and briefcase.  On his way past Marjorie's desk,
he paused.  "Marge, I sent the rest of the meeting notices to the Regents.
Make sure you update my calendar to reflect the new meeting for the 11th.
And, will you please call my wife?  I have to run over to Madison for a
meeting with President Lyons.  Tell her I'll be home this evening, but that
she shouldn't hold dinner."  Marjorie smiled and nodded.  "Thanks."  She
heard him whistle as he strolled down the hallway.



Since spring break was underway, the library was down to a skeleton staff
and the computer lab was closed.  Kip waved and smiled at the woman at the
reception desk.  Recognizing Kip as a staffer in the computer lab, she
didn't flinch when he unlocked the door and led his attractive friend in.
Kip picked up a three-ring binder and opened the back cover.  He slid his
fingers into the pocket and smiled.  "Ha!  Thought it was still here."  He
held up an index card.  "Sometimes we'd sign in and out for each other, if
there were, uhm...other things going on..." he booted up the computer.  "We
kept our log-ins and passwords here for convenience."  When the screen
invited him to log on he scanned the list of names.  "This guy..." he began
typing, "left at the end of the first semester.  Basically failed out and
his old man pulled the plug on him.  But I think..." he clicked a few more
strokes and smiled. "I was right!  He's still in the system."  He glanced
back at Glenn and grinned.  "Okay, I'm going to sign in as a guy no longer
on staff.  But he still has permission to set you up with a log in and
password under another student's name.  That way, my fingerprints aren't on
the identity I'm going to create for you."  He clicked the mouse a few
times and opened a spreadsheet.  "This is the list of students who are no
longer active, but haven't been cleaned out of the system.  We'll just
reactivate one of them, you can reset the password, and you're good to go."

Glenn waved a disk and grinned.  "It's all right here, mate."

Ten minutes later, Kip gazed anxiously at the computer screen.  He
nervously wiped his palms on the knees of his jeans and looked back at
Glenn.  "So it's there?  It was delivered?  How will I know he opened it
and it did the trick?  When will I know?"

Glenn smiled and sighed.  "Kipper.  Relax.  Your brother's personal e-mail
inbox has an email from one `Bryan Milleville,' with a UW email address,
and a subject that says `Calling All UW Crew Alumni.'"  As far as when
you'll know anything, it'll depend on Chas bitching to you, or in front of
you, about his computer meltdown.  Otherwise, you won't actually know.
You'll just have to trust me."

Kip looked at his watch and sighed one more time before nodding.  "Okay,
Glenn.  I trust you, mate."  He nudged Glenn's knee.  "Maybe I shouldn't,
after Saturday night's trip to the ER, but I guess I'll have to."  Even
though they were alone in the computer lab, Kip leaned forward and
whispered.  "At least I'm sitting, fully clothed, on a chair, and not on
all fours on my bed with my ass in the air.  So, I guess it's okay to trust
you now."

Glenn chuckled and patted Kip's shoulder, relieved that his friend was able
to look back on that unfortunate episode with a sense of humor.  "Well,
that should do it.  You might or might not know if it worked."  He checked
his watch.  "Well, I have to meet my mates and the other guys from the
house to go see that movie, and you need to shove off and go take care of
that student government business, right?"

It sounded again like `roit?' and it still made Kip smile.  "Yeah.
Turner's out of town for the week, and there's some stuff I need to take
care of as V.P.  I need to go to a meeting with the chairman of our Board
of Regents."  He felt bad about abandoning Glenn for the afternoon, but
he'd already figured it was a necessary piece of his plan.  "I'll catch up
with you guys a little later after the movie.  I'll see you at the pizza
house."



"So, where's your Aussie guest this afternoon?"  Andy was using a warm, wet
washcloth to wipe the milky fluid off of his young partner's chest and
ribs.

Kip propped up on an elbow, then reached over and picked up the bottle of
water off of the hotel room's bedside table.  "A bunch of them went to see
a movie.  I begged out, telling them I had to take care of some business
for WSA and the Regents since Turner's in New Orleans."  He took a long
drink as he scooted up and leaned back against the headboard.

Andy tossed the cloth into the bathroom sink, then flopped back down on the
bed.  "He can stay in New Orleans, for as far as I'm concerned."

Kip reached down and wiped Andy's bangs back off of his forehead.  "Not
playing nice with others, huh?"

Andy rolled onto his back.  "God!  He is SUCH a pain in the ass!  And, the
kid doesn't have a clue what he's dealing with.  He could seriously fuck me
up, you know."  Then he grinned.  "But I think I got it all figured out."
He locked his fingers behind his head and his left elbow dropped onto Kip's
thigh.  He tilted his head upward to look Kip in the eye.

Kip looked down and ran a finger across the inside of Andy's forearm.
"How's that?"

Andy sighed in satisfaction.  "Well, I'm predicting that our Mr. Turner is
going to miss a meeting, a very important meeting.  The budget request will
go to the full board on a unanimous vote from committee, and be presented
two weeks later.  Scott will bitch and moan, but look like a foolish child
for missing the budget committee meeting that he should have been at in the
first place.  The recommendation will go to the governor, maybe on a 13 to
2 vote.  Ted Hackett will get what he wants and..." he paused and looked up
again, "a couple years from now you could be laying naked with Judge Andrew
Pennington of the State Appeals Court"

Kip grinned.  "Are you shitting me?  How do you..."

Andy held up a hand.  "Don't ask.  It's just going to happen.  The
downside..." he reached over and pinched the skin of Kip's kneecap, "not
that it's going to affect you at all, but you young'ns are looking at a
good shot to the pocketbook next year, and the year after that."

"How bad?"

Andy shrugged his indifference.  "Looks like just under twenty percent next
year.  It could've been higher, but I cowed to the accountant on the
committee and cut some personnel overhead and brought it down to about
eighteen-five, I think."  Kip coughed out his water, and then gasped.

Andy chuckled.  "And probably another good hike the next that is yet to be
determined.  We don't have to decide that `til a year from now."  He looked
up again, still smiling.  "Lighten up, Kip!  Take a breath.  Like I said,
you'll be graduated and out of here.  Besides, Charles Sr. would've written
the check and you'd have just muddled along not knowing any wiser or
feeling any pain.  And..."

Kip cut him off.  "And this is going to get you a judgeship?"

Andy nodded.  "At the state level.  And then, maybe onto the State Supreme
Court.  Sweet, huh?"

Kip ignored it.  "Hey, Andy.  I got a couple favors to ask."

Andy rolled to his side, bent his arm at the elbow, and dropped his head
onto his fist.  "Shoot, Kip.  You know I'll help if I can."

"Well, we met a couple times at that room out on the west side of
Milwaukee.  You said your firm basically had it on hold for out of town
clients."  Andy nodded.  "And you said your firm has courtside seats at the
arena for Bucks games, and that you're about the only one who uses them."
He nodded again as he rubbed Kip's shin.  "Well, my brother's birthday is
coming up.  If it's okay, and if you can arrange it, I want to bring him
and my Australian brother to a basketball game, and then have a small party
with us and some friends away from my parents' house.  I figured you'd
understand."

Andy rolled off the bed and padded over to the table near the window.  He
judged it prudent to not even ask about the party in the hotel room.  He
filled two glasses with ice, and then filled them half way with Chivas.  He
took Kip's water bottle and added a splash to each one.  He handed one of
the glasses to Kip and gazed into his young friend's eyes.  "Done."



It had been a great night out in New Orleans.  Preservation Hall had been
the first stop, and the musicians had been in great form.  As they strolled
Bourbon Street, they peeked into a few titty bars as the barkers advertised
their ware.  Nobody was feeling any pain by the time they arrived at
Napolean's Itch.  It was karaoke night, and Scott grinned broadly as he
paged through one of the many song books at the bar.  Craig and Brett were
in the bathroom, and Marty had stepped outside to call Jill.  He giggled as
he picked up a pencil.

They took a table and ordered another round of Hurricanes.  Like most of
the places they visited, there was a two-drink minimum.  Nobody complained.
They trash talked each other, with no small amount of attention on Marty's
continuing need to call Rockford.  Every citizen entertainer at the
microphone, regardless of their vocal abilities got a standing ovation and
wild cheering from the group most of the patrons were soon calling `the
guys from Wisconsin.'

Scott got a nod from the guy running the sound machine, and stood up to
"hit the can."  A few minutes later, the patrons heard the deep voice and
southern drawl of the bar's announcer.  "Ladies and gents, Napolean's Itch
is prawd to preeeesent the mellifluous vocal stylin's of Wisconsin's
own... Scott...Turner...Jooonyah!"  Brett spit out his drink.  Marty fell
off his chair.  Craig just smiled and shook his head.  He'd put up with
Scotty's `vocal stylings' in their dorm room for months now.

An orchestra's string section accompanied Scott's dramatic entrance on the
stage.  "Aw, fuck!" Craig moaned.  "He's gonna do Sinatra."  Scott
dramatically pulled the microphone out of its stand and crooned,

"My story is much too sad to be told, But practically everything leaves me
totally cold.  The only exception I know is the case When I'm out on a
quiet spree, Fighting vainly the old ennui, And I suddenly turn and
see...your fab-u-lous face."

A bass rhythm picked up the pace, pulsing beneath the softly swinging
saxophones.  Scott snapped his fingers as his body bounced at the knees and
hips to the beat of the tune.  He looked over at the table of three guys
and he pointed at them all.  They were hooting and cheering and clapping.

"I get no kick from champagne, Mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at all."

The guys at the table hollered obscenities that he'd never recall.

"So tell me why should it be true...  That I get a kick..." he snapped his
fingers as his eyes met Marty's,

"...out of yooooou."

"Some, they may go for cocaine."

The table erupted in applause.

"I'm sure that if I took even one sniff It would bore me
terr-iffffffffffff-ically, too."  The three howled their laughter.  Yet I
get a kick out of you.

Scott shrugged and tilted his head, ala Sinatra,

"I get a kick every time I see You standing there before me.  I get a kick
though it's clear to see that You obviously do not adore me."

The three shouted in unison, "I do!  I do!"

Scott wailed now.  "I get no kick in a plane.  Flying too high with some
gal in the sky Is my idea of nothing to do.  Yet I get a kick...uhm, you
give me a boot...Yes, I get a kick out of yooooooooooooooou."

He sang through several pitches on the last syllable, in tune with the
instrumentals backing him up.  His three buddies were on their feet before
his voice trailed off.  Scott took a bow to a rousing round of applause
from the entire bar.  Returning to a series of high fives and pats on the
back, he grinned sheepishly, and took his seat.

"Always wanted to do that.  Too bad I had to find the courage to do it in
the joint we smoked, Marty's little white friend and about four or five
hurricanes."

Brett nodded.  "I think it's five, but it looks like number six is on the
way."

The cocktail waitress set down the tall orange-red nectar, garnished with
fruit.  "This one's on me, Scott.  That was a lot of fun.  You got `Old
Blue Eyes' down pat!"

Scott bowed with his head once again.  "Thank you, my dear.  What's your
name?"

"Chelsea."

"Well, Chelsea, I don't let `The Chairman of the Board' out that often, but
I appreciate the complement, and the drink."

"Hey!!"  Marty squealed.  "You haven't heard me yet!  I could bury that
sad-ass rendition."

The waitress winked as she handed him a slip of paper and a pencil.  "Put
up or shut up, big guy.  You do as well as Mr. Turner here, and I'll buy
you one, too."

Marty took the paper, and grasped her hand.  He kissed it and winked at
her.  "You are on, dear Chelsea!  You'll want to come back to the hotel
with me when I'm done.  We're at the Super 8.  Want the key now?"

She gently tapped him on the forehead and moved to the table next to the
guys from Wisconsin.  Chelsea looked over her shoulder and winked again.
"So, impress me."  She blew him a kiss, then bent over to hear the drink
order the other table was giving her, and to show them all her narrow
waist, firm hips and tight buns.

Fifteen minutes later Marty was gone `to the can.'  They all expected it,
but still shouted out when it came, as though it was a surprise.  "Ladies
and gents, Napolean's Itch is happy...er, even happier than we were thirty
minutes ago," the announcer stuffed a ten into his pocket, "to applaud the
vocal stylin's of Martin `Blue Eyes' Anderson."

Like the earlier Sinatra performance, the saxes and bass led the way.  He
stepped into the spotlight with a fedora cocked down over one eye.  He'd
`borrowed' it from the guy at the end of the bar who was laughing as he
enjoyed the cocktail Marty had bought him.  .  "This goes out to my girl,
Chelsea, and the buddies I dragged down here from Wisconsin."  He snapped
his fingers and winked at Scott.

The orchestra in the background had caught up with him, and Chelsea was
starting to laugh.  Marty looked at her and shook a scolding `don't test
me!' finger.  Then it was time to sing.  He looked right at her and winked.
Then he looked over to the table of his friends, grinning.  His eyes locked
on Scott's.

"I've got yoooooooooou under my skin.  I've got yooooooooou deep in the
heart of me.  So deep in my heart, that you're really a part of me.  I've
got yooooooou under my skin."

Chelsea leaned over the bar to order his drink.

Scott was whooping it up with Craig and Brett at the table, but his eyes
hadn't left the lock Marty had on him since the first beat of the song.

"I'd tried sooooooooooo, not to give in.  I said to myself this affair
never will go so well.  But why should I try to resist when baby I know so
well That I've got yooooooooou...un-der-my-skin"

Marty slid the hat up over his eyes and reached forward, palm turned up
toward the ceiling.

"I would sacrifice anything, come with might For the sake of having you
near In spite of the warnin' voice that comes in the night And repeats, it
repeats in my ear: Don't you know, little fool, you never can win?  Use
your mentality.  Wake up to reality.  But each time that I do just the
thought of you Makes me stop just before I begin.  `Cuz I got
yoooooooooooy—ah, under my skin."  He snapped his fingers.  "Yes, I've got
yoooooooooooou, under my skin."

 The next morning they were sitting in the lobby, a bit bleary-eyed.  "But
I wanted to go over and check out this haunted graveyard today.  Anybody up
for that?"  Craig chomped on a croissant and sipped his coffee as he paged
through the pamphlet.

Brett bit into a baguette covered in creamed cheese, and muttered with a
mouthful.  "Sounds good to me.  Never met a ghost before."

Scott scrunched up his face.  "I don't know.  I'm not much for the
supernatural shit.  I can handle the history stuff pretty good, but hanging
around where they're buried doesn't do much for me.  I wanted to go over to
that park with all the artists and check out some of the stuff.  Maybe find
something for the apartment, or to bring back for my Mom and Dad.  Maybe my
Gran' too."

Marty nodded.  "I got a really cute photo of Jill and Ashley in my wallet.
I wanted to have one of the artists turn it into a water color portrait.  I
saw some really good deals there the other day."

Scott reached in his shirt pocket.  "Okay, here's the tickets for the
Riverboat."  He gave one each to Craig and Brett and slid the other two
back.  "Let's just do what we want, and meet on the floating casino when
it's due to shove off.

Brett looked mildly confused.  "I thought the casino boats stayed docked,
that they just put the casino on the river to keep them off the mainland.
I didn't know they actually moved."

Scott nodded.  "Most don't.  The Natchez does an all-inclusive tour.'  You
get dinner, decent music and a tour of the river.  The gambling's sort of
an extra, but this one's all-in-one.  It's about six hours of touring,
gambling and probably a beverage or two.  Meantime, me and Marty will go
hunting for culture.  You two can go hunting for spirits."

They nodded, and parted ways for the rest of the morning and afternoon.
After three hours of mulling among the various artists, Marty finally
asked.  "What time does the boat shove off?"

Scott's eyes looked up in thought.  "Uhm...four o'clock.  We're good for
time."

A little after three, Marty nudged his buddy.  "Let's head back to the room
real quick.  I told the guy I'd stop back tomorrow to pick up the portrait,
but we can drop off our shit and then head down to the dock to meet the
guys."

Scott checked his watch.  "Yeah, that ought to be about right."

Twenty minutes later, Marty banged on the bathroom door.  "Dude!  Wipe up
and let's head out!  We're gonna be late!"

"I'm workin' on it.  Gimme a second.  We got time!"

They got to the dock just in time to see The Natchez lazily strolling up
the river, it's huge water paddle slowly waving goodbye to them.

"What the fuck?  Scotty!  You said the thing left at four!"

Scott pulled the tickets out of his pocket and examined them.  "Oops!  I
guess it was three-thirty.  My fuck up, man.  I was sure it was four."

Marty nervously scanned the dock, hoping to spy Craig or Brett.  "Shit!
They must've got on board.  God Dammit, and I was feeling lucky.  Remember
the last time we visited a casino? I did pretty well.  I wanted to shoot
for a replay of the big win in the Dells."

"Jeez, Marty. I'm really sorry."  Scott struggled to subdue the coy grin,
with limited success.  "Man, what're we gonna do now?"

Marty paused, and slowly turned his head.  The smirk on Scott's face said
volumes.  "You sonofabitch!  You did this on purpose!"

Scott feigned shock.  "Moi?"  He leaned over and spoke just above a
whisper.  "Why would I do something like that?  Now we have about six
hours, prol'ly more, just the two of us stranded here on shore.  Whatever
shall we do?"

A naughty grin flashed across Marty's lips.  "Race you back to the room!"

Scott put a hand on each of Marty's shoulders and pushed him back down onto
the bed.  Immediately, he was on top of his friend, hungrily lapping at his
neck, lips and ears.  Marty's hands reached down and firmly gripped Scott's
ass as each man ground his groin into the others.  When there was a break
for some air, Marty looked up and smiled.  "My!  Somebody's a hungry boy."

"Shut up."  Scott's mouth planted another insistent kiss as he began
unbuttoning the Hawaiian shirt.  He threw back the two sides of the shirt
front, and lavished Marty's chest with licks and nibbles.  Marty's hands
rubbed the back of Scott's head in encouragement and appreciation as he
slowly moaned.  As he worked his way down the panting torso, his hands
kneaded the hard package between Marty's thighs, and was soon chewing on
the bulge beneath the fabric of Marty's shorts.  Marty sat up half way and
gripped the back of Scott's polo and pulled it up over his head.  Soon,
each had stripped the other completely, and they rolled back and forth on
the mattress, alternately licking and sucking and playfully biting one
another.

Scott sat back up and leaned over the edge of the bed, fumbling to find his
shorts.  He came back up with a smile, and swung a leg over to straddle
Marty's knees.  He clenched the corner of the condom's wrapper between his
teeth.  Marty giggled.  "Jesus, Scotty!  You're one determined motherfucker
today!  Goin' right for the hot spot, are you?"

Scott leered down and playfully patted Marty's chest.  "Told you to shut
up.  You keep gabbing like this and I might change my mind."  He leaned
down and locked his lips again on Marty's.  He grabbed his friend's
engorged member with his right hand.  As Marty panted through the kiss, he
felt the rubber covering the head of his own cock.  Before it completely
registered what was happening, Scott had slid the condom down his full
length.  His eyes flew open and he gasped.

While Scott slathered a generous helping of Wet up and down Marty's dick,
he heard Marty gasp again.  "Jesus, Scotty!  Uhm... are you gonna...?"

Scott scooted up the mattress several inches and their eyes locked.
Scott's hand was working his slippery fingers on and into his pucker.  He
gazed down and nodded.  "I want to, Marty.  I want you inside of me."  He
gripped Marty firmly.  "Been thinking about it for a little while.  It's
obvious how much you enjoy it, unless you've been acting."  Marty shook his
head and rolled his eyes.  "And since I figure there's a good chance I'll
give it up some day, I want it to be you."  He lowered his hips until he
could feel Marty's glans poking against his opening.  "And I want it to be
now."

With some effort, he lowered his hips.  A sharp gasp and widening eyes,
along with the sensation around the head of his cock announced that he'd
poked through the sphincter.  Marty put his hands on Scott's chest and
stroked with his thumbs.  "Just hold it there, Scotty.  Takes a little bit
to get used to.  You sure you want to do this?  Am I hurting you?"

Scott clenched his jaw and clamped his eyelids.  "You're not hurting me.
It hurts, but you're not hurting me."

Marty lowered his hands and gently rubbed from Scott's thighs, up around
his waist and around back, softly stroking his ass cheeks.  "Easy, studly.
Take it at your own pace."  Slowly, Scott allowed his weight to lower onto
his friend's groin.  He grunted, "Errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgghhh.  God Damn!"
When he realized he'd hit bottom, he inhaled deeply.  "Fucking A!"

Marty giggled.  "You did it, Scotty.  Now just give us a second just like
this while you get used to it.  God dammit, you are so fucking hot.  I wish
you could see yourself sitting on my hard pole, you horny fucker."  He
gripped Scott's member.  "So fucking tight.  So fucking hot!"

Scott slowly opened his eyes, and his clenched teeth and clamped lips
slowly morphed into a smile.  He wrapped his hands around Marty's biceps
and gripped them firmly.  Marty strained to bring his head off the
mattress, and his tongue lashed back and forth across Scott's chest as he
felt the hips on top of him begin to slowly rock forward and back.  A low
groan came from above, and Marty gently bit the left nipple with his front
teeth.  He felt the weight come off of his groin as Scott gradually rose,
and then lowered himself back down onto his friend.  "Oooooooooooohhh,
ffffffffffffffuuuuuuuuuck!" Scott purred.  Scott released Marty's upper
arms and placed his hands flat on Marty's panting chest.  He sensed the
rhythm that Scott was beginning to get into with his up and down motions
and encouraged him with his hands on Scott's ass.

"Yeah, babe!  Ride my cock, man.  Like that Scotty?  How you doin', buddy?
We doin' okay?"

Scott just closed his eyes again and nodded his head, the pain had washed
away and he was completely lost in the sensations that were so new and so
blissful.  "Mmmmmmmhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmm."

Marty bent his legs slightly and flattened his feet on the mattress for
leverage.  He wanted to match Scott stroke for stroke, motion for motion.
Softly at first, he heard Scott reacting to the team effort.  "Oh, God!
Oh, shit!  Oh, fuck!  Oh, God!"  One syllable with each thrust upward as
Scott came down onto him.  Marty's hand gripped Scott's crimson rod again,
and his stroking matched the bouncing that they were working out together.

"Oh, Marty!  Oh Damn!  I'm gonna...I'm gonna...I'm gonna..." His body
jerked and his muscles clamped tighter around Marty.  With a throaty grunt,
he spewed a gusher of white cream all over Marty's chest.  "Aaaaaahhhhhhh,
Fuuuuuuuck!"  Scott whined.  He jerked again several times as his eyes
rolled and his body quaked in spasmodic joy.

Marty responded in kind.  Almost involuntarily, his hips thrust upward and
his head came off the pillow several inches.  The muscles in his neck
bulged and he gritted his teeth while he dug his fingers into Scott's
thighs.  A series of coughing grunts escaped from between his lips as he
filled the condom deep inside of his friend.  His head fell back on the
pillow, and Scott's followed him down.  He slowly slid the invader from his
chute with a wince and a groan.

After a full minute of silence, broken only by heavy panting and an
occasional effort to swallow hard, Marty began to stroke Scott's back, and
he giggled.  "Well, you did it.  I didn't think you had it in you."

"Yeah.  But, I had it in me alright."  They both chuckled, and Scott patted
Marty's chest.  "But, I know what you mean.  Used to think I never would,
or could, do that either."

Marty kissed Scott's temple.  "Me neither, but I'm not sure we're talking
about the same thing."

Scott licked his lips and lifted his forehead off the mattress.  "Huh?"

"I meant that you surprised me.  I didn't think you could ever do anything
that would surprise me.  That's always been my job."



Much to his older brother's amazement, Kip grabbed Chas into a tight
embrace.  "Hey, Chas!  How's it hangin'?  He slapped Glenn on the shoulder.
"This is our Australian brother, Glenn Bowden."  He put the appropriate
emphasis on the word `brother.'  "Glen, my big bro' Charles Monmouth, Jr.,
or Chas."

Glenn gripped Chas' right hand in both of his and offered his most dazzling
smile.  "Very good to meet you, Chas.  Your little brother," he nudged Kip
with an elbow without letting go of the elder Monmouth's hand, "he's told
me a great deal about you in the short time I've been here.  I've been
looking forward to meeting you."  He squeezed a little tighter on the word
`meeting.'

Chas was immediately smitten.  The accent was adorable, the smile was
captivating and the eyes closed the deal.  Glenn's gaze just sucked a
person in on the first meeting, and one was often mesmerized by them every
time he spoke.

"And this is Charlene, my sister-in-law."  Charlene gave him a peculiar
look, believing that had been the first time he'd ever referred to her as
anything other than `Chas's wife.'

"Oh, my!" Glenn gently shook her hand.  "You look like you're ready to make
ol' Kipper an uncle any day now."

Charlene scowled.  "Any minute is more like it, I think.  Can't be soon
enough for me."  She cast a sideways glance at her husband.  "And we are
going to have and raise an ONLY child."  Chas just rolled his eyes as
Charlene eased herself into the large recliner nearest the door.

Charles pulled his favorite son into a tight embrace.  "Happy Birthday,
son!  It's a good thing the baby didn't come today.  Wouldn't want my
grandson growing up having to share the limelight with his old man on his
own birthday.  I intend to spoil the little one something awful, and want
him to have his own day."

After thirty minutes of cocktails and get acquainted conversation, Diane
announced that dinner was served.  Kip held out a chair for Charlene, and
sat down next to her.  When Glenn pulled his chair out to take a seat next
to Chas, he shifted it a couple inches to the right.  Pulling the chair
under his rear end, his right thigh easily brushed up against the left
thigh next to him.  It would nudge him seductively several times throughout
the dinner.  Ten minutes into the meal, when Chas picked up his napkin,
Glenn glanced down and could see that his subtle overtures were having the
desired impact.  He quickly winked at Kip, and wondered how the target of
his attention was going to stand up once the meal was over.

"Chas, I sent you an email a couple days asking what you wanted for your
birthday.  You've never ignored that request before.  What's that all
about?"

Charlene sniffed.  "Genius boy here opened a program attached to an e-mail
from somebody he didn't know.  Shazamm!  Reformatted the hard drive due to
some bugaboo virus, or worm or something like that."

Chas looked down in chagrin.  "That's right, father, essentially.  I
received an e-mail with a subject regarding UW Crew Alumni.  The name was
one I didn't recognize, a Bryan Milleville, I think, with `UW dot edu' in
the address, so I though it was legit.  It contained a request to assist in
updating our team alumni information, and that all I had to do was open the
attachment, answer a few questions about my current data into their
program, then save and return it.  As soon as I opened the program,
kablewey!  Everything went black.  Everything I had saved on the hard drive
or in my email is gone.  The damned machine is over at CompUSA being
serviced."

Kip swallowed and sipped his wine.  "Everything's gone?"

Chas shot him a sneer.  "That's what I said little bro,' everything."

Kip feigned pity.  "Oh, that's really too bad.  What a pain in the ass."

Chas shrugged.  "So I called the president of our alumni association, and
he tells me that they've authorized no such solicitation of membership
data.  I've got a call into the tech. support staff at the university.
Because of spring break, they're short staffed right now, but she assured
me they'd begin an investigation as soon as they were back up to full
strength."

Kip nodded hopefully, as he kicked Glenn's foot under the table.  "Good
luck with that."

After the dishes were cleared, the candles were blown out, the cake was cut
and coffee was served, Chas opened his gifts.  His parents had made it into
something of a baby shower, giving him all sorts of things to welcome a new
grandson into the world.  A couple of picture frames, some bibs with funny
expressions on them, a baby-sized baseball mitt and a baby-sized rubber
cheese head hat.  Finally, Charles produced a twenty-year-old bottle of
scotch and redeemed the birthday experience.  To top it all off, Kip handed
him an envelope.  "Happy Birthday, Bro!"

His mouth dropped when he opened the card.  He picked three purple, green
and orange pieces of stiff card stock out and looked at his brother.
"Jesus fu..."  He glanced left and right at both parents.  "Uhm...holy cow,
Kip!  These are fu...uhm... these are courtside!"

"Close enough to smell, what's his name, Kip?"  Glenn snapped his fingers.
"Close enough to smell Glenn Robinson's jockstrap."  He looked shyly left
and right, then across toward Charlene.  "Oh, sorry.  Didn't mean to be
crude."  He nudged the leg to his right.  Chas coughed to hide his laughter
and patted Glenn's thigh.

Kip perched his elbows on the table and smiled.  "Nothing's too good for my
big brother."  He looked to his right.  "Char," she cringed.  "I hope you
won't begrudge my wanting to take my big bro' and my Aussie buddy here out
to celebrate his birthday tomorrow night?  These seats are hard to come
by."

She waved and rolled her eyes.  "Whatever."

Charles, Sr. smiled warmly.  `Maybe the boy is finally coming around,' he
mused.

The following afternoon, Kip sat on the same Milwaukee hotel room armchair
he'd been in, legs in the air, with Andy Pennington panting and grunting on
top of him, two months earlier.  "These are a-fucking-mazing!"  Kip stared
at the black matchbox-sized gizmo in his hand.

Glenn giggled.  "Pretty cool, huh?  We'll put this one right here."  He
stuck a rolled up piece of electrical tape to the bottom side of the tiny
camera and affixed it to the top of the cable box in the entertainment
center.  "Looks like a piece of the `tele' set-up, and it will catch
anything going on on the bed.  "This one," he held up a small globe, "we'll
put next to the sprinkler."  He stood on bed and reached for the corner of
the ceiling, mashing some putty into the cone-shaped base of the small
device.  "Looks like a piece of the hotel's security system.  It'll catch
anything taking place on the far side of the room."

He hopped off the bed.  "And that one, I'll tuck in here on the window
sill.  Just remember not to open the curtains.  It'll gather what's going
on from the other angle."

Kip chuckled.  "My overly horny big brother, whose balls are probably neon
blue after the teasing you gave him last night, in hotel room with you and
me.  Once it becomes clear what we have in mind, he's not going to touch
the curtains."

Glenn wiggled his eyebrows.  "I was pretty deviant last night, wasn't I?
Kind of merciless, actually.  The good news is, he's hotter than even you
described.  Sounds like a lot of fun."  He patted Kip's head.  "And it's
for a good cause, brother."

Kip looked back at the small lens in his hand.  "And, they're wireless?
Going right into the laptop?"

"That they are, but not video.  Stills only, Kipper."  He fiddled with the
curtains another minute, then opened the laptop and the clicking began.
"These will capture about thirty still photos each, and feed the images
into here."  He slid out the drawer beneath the TV and carefully placed the
laptop.  "What time you figure we'll be getting here?"

"About ten, I guess.  Maybe ten-thirty."

Glenn clicked a few more times.  "That should do it."  He closed the cover
of the computer and slid it into the bottom drawer of room's dresser, and
then placed the room's extra pillow and blanket on top of it.  For good
measure, he placed the Gideon Bible on top of that.  He looked up and
smiled.  "We're all good."

Kip checked his watch.  "Perfect, Mr. Bond.  We're not due to pick up the
asshole for another two hours to go to the game.  We got the room `til
tomorrow morning."  He went to his knees.  "Come here and let me give you a
dress, or undressed, rehearsal for this evening's performance."  Glenn
smiled and grabbed the strap of his belt.



They parked in the underground garage, beneath the Arena.  "This is so
cool!  I've been to a lot of Bucks games, but never had an indoor parking
pass."

Kip smirked.  "You were trash talking Andy Pennington at Christmas time.
Looks like knowing him pays off after all."

Chas slapped his brother's thigh.  "Kippy one, Chas zero."

As they stepped out of the car, Kip took off his coat.  "We're indoors.
Why not leave the jackets here?  Not like we're going to need them, and I'm
just as likely to leave mine on my seat when we get up to go."

Glenn held open the back door as he got out.  "Hand me your coat, Chas old
boy, and I'll toss it in with mine."  Chas fondled the outside of the
jacket pocket before tossing it in, making sure that the cell phone was
still inside.  Just before leaving the house, Charlene had insisted that
Chas bring his phone, in case she felt the need to reach him during the
game.  They didn't need any distractions tonight.

Charlene lay nearly prone on her back in the recliner, eyes closed.
Charles was in his study, and Diane busied herself playing solitaire at the
kitchen table.  The `Ice Queen' sat up half-way.  "Chas!" she screamed.
"It's time!!  It's time, God Dammit!  Get me to a hospital!"

The guys took their seats, with Glenn being careful to position himself
between the two brothers.  After looking around for a minute, he motioned
for the guy selling beers one row back to move his way.

At the same time, the cell phone buzzed in the pocket of the coat that was
on the back seat of Kip's car.

Glenn motioned over Kip's head indicating to the concessionaire that they
needed three beers.  As the cups made their way down the row, Glenn leaned
forward to hand a twenty back down the row and then wait for change.  As he
bent forward, he was careful to let his ass brush against Chas' cheek and
then his ear.  Chas blushed red and his cock twitched.

The buzzing of the cell phone stopped.

"Where is he?  Have you even called him?  Where is my sonofabitch husband?"
Diane patted one hand as a nurse patted the other.

Charles stood just outside the delivery room and hit `redial.'  "Answer
your fucking phone, you dipshit," he heard himself muttering.  "I am NOT
going back in there to help your cunt of a wife deliver this baby!"  The
nun walking past shot him a disdainful glare.

The Bucks were up by ten starting the second half of the game.  Chas had
already been bought four tall beers, and his little brother and Glenn were
not going to let him off the hook.  Glenn had accompanied him to the john
during half time, and given Chas a not-so-subtle show of his half-hard
member while they stood at the urinal.  Glenn patted his ass as he zipped
up.  "The night's young, mate."  As they stood at the sink, their eyes met
in the reflection of the mirror.  The Australian leaned in to check his
face, locked eyes with Chas and licked his lips.

The hospital staff had brought in a male nurse to assist with the delivery,
in place of the father.  Charles had refused to go through those doors
again, and Diane had begged for help.  "Now, breathe!" the doctor
encouraged.  The nurse held her hand and mimicked the breathing techniques
she and Chas had practiced during their classes.

With five minutes left, the Bucks lead had dwindled to a twenty-point
deficit.  Kip looked at his watch, and then pointed to the scoreboard.
"You know, we could beat the end of game rush and duck out of here now.
This game's over, anyway."  He put a hand on Glenn's shoulder and looked at
his brother.  "What say me and Glenn give you a birthday party to remember,
Chas?"

Glenn smiled at Chas and licked his lips.  "And make this trip of mine an
unforgettable one as well, eh Chas?"

Five minutes later, back in the parking garage, Glenn opened the back door
as soon as Kip had hit the remote to unlock the car.  He needed to be in
the back seat.  As Kip pulled out of the parking space, Glenn reached into
the coat pocket and plucked out the cell phone.  Ten missed calls.  He
turned off the power, set the phone on the floor, and then kicked it under
the front seat.

"Fuck you both!" Charlene shouted to the doctor and Diane.  "Get my
lame-ass husband who did this to me...get him over here, NOW!"

Kip opened the hotel room door and motioned for his brother to enter.
Although a bit leery, and still kind of stunned by the arrangement, Chas
complied.  A few steps inside, he felt Glenn's hands come around him from
behind, one of the going for his crotch and the other sliding up to stroke
his right pec.  Glenn's tongue swiped across the side of his neck and
tickled the earlobe.  He ground his firm package into Chas's rear end, and
felt his prey's hands reach around and grip his ass to urge him on.

Chas turned around in Glenn's embrace and grinned sheepishly.  "So, you and
my little brother are, uh, very fraternal, I gather?"

Glenn swiped his tongue across Chas's chin.  "Very.  Very, very!  We have a
lot in common.  If you don't mind, I'd like to make it even more in
common."

Kip went to his knees between the two and began petting and groping at each
man's package while Glenn slowly unbuttoned Chas's shirt.  His hands roamed
over the well-developed chest as Kip undid first one belt buckle, then the
other.  Chas looked down and smiled.  "You know how to set up a birthday
party, little bro'.  Kip just looked straight ahead at the bulging pouch of
his brother's boxer briefs, extended his tongue and lightly stroked its tip
over the outline of the head of the hardening cock beneath the fabric.
Glenn slid the shirt off his shoulders as Chas reached down and grabbed the
pole showing through Glenn's boxers.  Kip slid his fingertips into the
waistband of each guy's shorts and pulled them down.  The heads of the two
cocks came together inches from his lips.  He extended his tongue again and
danced it back and forth between them.

Charlene glared down between her raised legs.  She screamed at the doctor.
"I just want you to get this out of me!!  God Dammit!!"  Her scorn turned
to the male nurse who was working his second consecutive double shift, and
was exhausted.  "And you bring this fucking faggot in here to hold my
hand?"  She swatted the staffer away.  "Don't tell me to breathe you
asswipe!  You try pushing a watermelon out your asshole, and then come back
here and tell me to breathe.  WHERE IS MY FUCKING HUSBAND?"

Her husband was on his back in a Milwaukee hotel room, getting fucked up
the ass for the first time in his life.  Glenn stood at the edge of the
bed, ramming his turgid member in and out of the virgin hole and leaning
forward to suck forcefully on Kip's extended tool.  Kip's feet were planted
on the mattress on each side of his brother's head.  Chas looked up at his
little brother's glutes flexing and his nut sack swinging back and forth as
Glenn gobbled on Kip's dick.  His eyes popped each time the head of Glenn's
missile passed over his love nut.



After snoozing for a while, Marty and Scott located a Cajun restaurant that
delivered, and ordered a small truckload of appetizers to munch on.  Their
early evening sex, followed by a few cocktails and a fat joint had left
them famished.  They laid naked on the bed, laughing, chowing on spicy
shrimp and blackened chicken and beef, sipping drinks and reminiscing over
the past several months.  It was a great two-man party.

Now Glenn was bent over Kip, his chest on Kip's sweaty back and buried to
the pubes into his friend's hole, and Chas was driving his own resurrected
rod into the smooth ass of the Australian.  Glenn looked up at the ceiling
mounted camera and smiled.

"There's the head!"  The doctor had grown tired of this bitch, and he
wanted to get back to his wife, so he was trying to focus instead on just
the baby.  He was trying to will the infant out of the mother's womb.
Diane wept quietly in the corner of the room, having been shooed away by
her daughter-in-law.  "Okay, Charlene, I need you to push again!  We're
almost there."

"Fuck you!"  Sweat mingled with tears in Charlene's eyes.  "I'm pushing all
that I can.  I'm going to cut that fucker's balls off, I swear.  I'm going
to tie his pecker to the rear bumper of his fucking BMW and drive off.
I'll show him zero to sixty in record speed.  WHERE IS MY FUCKING
HUSBAND?!!"

After some more playful banter and erotic foreplay, some if it involving
the food they'd ordered, Marty invited Scott to return the favor of a
sweaty, rambunctious ride.  After they collapsed together and caught their
breath, Marty opened the windows to the warm gulf air, hoping to clear the
room of most of the lingering odor of man sex.  They fell asleep again,
entangled in each other's arms and legs on Marty's bed.  Just as he was
falling back to sleep, Scott heard a key in the door, and Brett's drunken
muttering.  Scott rolled to his right and dove for the other bed.

"Whathefu?" Brett mumbled.

Scott sat up and shielded his eyes from the light.  He mocked Brett's
mumbling.  "Missed the boat.  Went out and got shitfaced.  Crashing here.
You get my bed.  Turn off the fuckin' light."

Brett mumbled something unintelligible, and the door closed.

Marty was giggling into his pillow when Scott rejoined him under the
covers.

The following morning they woke and showered together.  Scott stole across
the hall to see if the guys were up and put on some clean clothes.  Craig
was laying on top of the covers in his boxers, snoring loudly, with Brett
asleep in one of the chairs, a hand of playing cards still clenched between
his fingers.  They'd be leaving tomorrow and it looked like today was going
to be a lazy one, with plenty of recovery on deck for everyone.  Scott left
a note.  "Hey, Sad Sacks!  Sorry we missed the boat.  My Bad!!!  Me and
M. went out for a bite to eat.  Back in a bit.  Call my cell if you rise
from the dead.  S."

They settled into a table on the sidewalk in front of a café.  Scott sat
gingerly with a wince.  Marty giggled as he accepted the menus and ordered
two cups of coffee.  "You'll get past it.  But it's a good hurt, ain't it?
A couple of screwdrivers too, professor?"

Scott shook his head and waved a flat hand over the table.  "Not for me.
We've been hitting it pretty hard this week.  I'm about ready to dry out a
little."

Marty nodded.  "Me too."  He looked up at the waiter.  "Been a long week of
partying.  Just coffee for now, please."  The waiter smiled knowingly and
nodded.

They chatted idly, reminiscing about high school and childhood years.  With
practically every anecdote about a misstep from their own youths, Marty
would make some comparison to little Ashley.  With nearly each version of a
date gone very wrong or one that went extremely well, Marty had a
comparison to Jill.  Each time Scott mentioned Big Scott or Suzanne, Marty
would talk about how hopeful and happy he was for his own mom's bright
future.

Scott couldn't help but recall the night in his dorm room when Marty had
poured his heart out about his malignant father, and how the clouds formed
around Marty's eyes any time Dan Anderson was mentioned.  This was a
different guy he was having coffee with, and was delighted for his friend.

Scott bit into a hard roll.  As he chewed, he scrutinized Marty from across
the table.  The gaze was so intent that finally Marty had to react.
"What?"

Scott sipped his water.  "When did you plan to break the news to us?"

"Huh?  What do you...?"

"You're not coming back next year, are you?"

Marty looked down at his knees.  Both guys were quiet for a full minute,
neither one moving.  The waiter began to approach with fresh coffee, and
Scott waved him away.  Finally, Marty said softly.  "I wanted to wait `til
after the break.  Figured one or more of you might be really pissed, and I
didn't want to start an argument and ruin the week."

"Probably good thinking, I suppose."  Marty looked up and was surprised to
see a gentle smile on his friend's face.  "So fill me in.  I figure you got
a plan, right?  Not like you to make decisions without carefully..." he
snickered and shrugged, "...okay, maybe not always so carefully, but at
least plotting a course of action.  There's always a plan, Mr. Special
Advisor, even if it's a little hair-brained.  But I don't believe this one
could be hair-brained."

Marty sighed in relief.  He had most nervous about Scott's reaction, and he
was sensing support right out of the gate.  He relaxed and leaned back in
his chair.  He removed his cap, and ran his fingers through his hair before
refitting it snuggly.  "We're getting married, and Jill and I are going to
be new parents in September."

Marty had seen shock on Scott's face many times before, but not like this.
"You knocked her up?  You had...Jesus, Marty!"

Marty's hands went up in defense.  "Easy!  Easy!  Things just got out of
hand not long after the New Year."  Scott was still speechless.  Marty
leaned over and he spoke softly.  "Look.  Jill knows I've messed around
with guys.  She doesn't know the extent, or the whole deal with you and me,
and I'm not sure she ever will.  In fact, she's not gonna hear your name
pass my lips if we discuss that stuff any further.  But we've both been
tested, and are clean as a whistle.  We'll both continue to do that
regularly for the next year."  He leaned closer and reduced the volume
further.  "You ought to do that, too, you know."

Scott nodded his admission of something he'd already considered as Marty
continued.  "Anyway, yeah.  One night we were alone, without protection,
randy as Hell and things got very steamy.  We just gave in.  I tried to be
careful, but..." He shrugged and winked.  "Besides, neither one of us is
sorry.  In fact," he giggled, "we're both pretty jazzed by the idea."

Scott sat back and relaxed.  "Okay, what's the rest?"

Marty laid out the plans he and Jill had made with themselves, her parents
and his own mom, Shelly.  Marty would move into Jill's house for the time
being.  Jill's father, Eric, who loved Marty, was in the process of closing
a deal with a group of investors where they'd end up acquiring six more
small weekly papers.  Eric would retain operational control of all of their
interests, and he had a job for Marty.  The position was in sales and
advertising for several of the papers.  "Interesting work, I think.
Developing ad ideas, writing print, overseeing the photography, schmoozing
with the business class.  The kind of shit that's right up my alley."  He
grinned and winked again.  "I've been known to come up with an idea or two
to grab people's attention and get them thinking my way, you know."  Scott
threw a piece of roll across the table.

"Anyway, I'm going to work while Jill finishes her Associate's Degree.
About the time she wraps that up, the baby will come.  She's going to stay
at home for a while before looking for jobs.  She's already made some
contacts, and ought to do just fine.  When we think we're ready, I'll cut
back on the job while I start classes at Rock Valley to finish my own
A.D. in marketing.  All of my credits from the UW will transfer, so that
should be a breeze.  Then, a couple years down the road, we're going to
talk about maybe coming back up to Madison and one or both of us will
finish our undergrad degrees.  Meantime, we're surrounded by childcare help
up the wazoo, between her parents, Ashley's dad's folks and my mom."

Scott locked his fingers behind his head and leaned back.  "Seems this
really is what you want, my friend.  You've been doing a lot of planning
lately."

"Oh, it is, Scotty.  It's what I really want.  It's scary as shit, but I
really do love Jill, and I know she loves me.  And you might have noticed,
but I'm head-over-heels-insane about Ashley.  They need me, and so does my
mom, but to a lesser extent."  His voice creaked a little.  "It feels so
good to be needed."  His voice broke further.  "And, I am going to be the
father I never had.  I have to do that.  It's not like I even have a
choice.  Looking back, I think I decided that when I was about five or six.
It's just that the current situation has made me articulate it, to say it
to myself, and now to you.  My mission in life, I think, is to become the
man and the father that Dan Anderson never was."

Scott pursed his lips, swallowed hard and blinked away a couple of tears.
"Mission accomplished, Marty."

There was another moment of silence before Scott continued.  "You're
ten-times the man he ever was or will be.  I think I have a pretty great
father, but you're going to be the best.  I'm very happy for you, and proud
of you.  Jill and Ashley, and little whoever that will be, are very lucky."
He could see the relief on Marty's face and in his body language, but
wanted to dispel and lingering tension a bit further.  "Besides, it's not
like you'll be that far away.  A phone call, an e-mail, and I know you'll
come running to the rescue the next time I fuck something up."

Marty was beaming.  "Ready for those screwdrivers now?"

Scott smiled.  "Can't celebrate with just coffee, now can we?"  He waved at
the waiter.

"So, what're you doing on July 18th?"

"Uhm...coming to Rockford for a wedding?"

"And, standing up as my best man, if you would?"

"I'd have been pissed if you hadn't asked."  Scott winked.  They clinked
glasses.

Marty took a sip and licked his lips.  "Uhm...if it's a boy, we're going to
name him Scott."

Scott swallowed hard and blinked several times.



"I think I like this one the best."  Kip leaned back in his chair with
Glenn sitting next to him.  The image on the screen showed Chas on all
fours with Glenn's dick in his ass and a mouth full of Kip's cock.  Neither
of the younger fraternity brother's faces were evident, though there was no
way one wouldn't recognize Charles Monmouth, Jr.

"I'm pretty partial to this one."  Glenn clicked on another icon.  "I'm a
Kip and Chas sandwich, don't you think?"  They'd cropped it just right to
show Chas pressed up against Glenn's back, his face covered in sweat
exuding ecstasy, with Kip's torso visible underneath Glenn's body.  "I'd
like a copy of this, if you don't mind.  Something to put on my screen
saver back in my room."  He swatted Kip's knee and winked.

Kip gathered the forty images he deemed worthy of the effort and saved them
onto a CD.  He opened an e-mail and typed both of his brother's addresses,
personal and office.  "I think his Yahoo is working again."  He giggled.

"Dear Chas,

"I wanted to add a memento to your recent birthday gift.  I hope you had as
much fun in the making of it as I did.  By the way, Glenn sends his
regards.

"You'll note that each image is stamped with time and date.  Unless I'm
mistaken, something else was going on in your larger life while you were
busy feeding on cock and taking it up the ass in Milwaukee.  Is Charlene
speaking to you yet?  Not if you're lucky.

"I'm sure that she and Mom and Dad would be so proud.

"From here on out, dear brother, you will not fuck with me.  You will not
lay a finger on me.  You will not deride or degrade me.  You might decide
to not speak to me, either, but that's no loss and it'll be your call.
But, what would father say?

"I hope that little Marlene got the teddy bear I sent.  She's so adorable!

"Your loving brother,

"Kip."



They were silent during the drive out of Memphis.  They were all exhausted,
but it was Craig's turn to drive.  Once out on the interstate, Marty
finally broke the solitude.  Like the other three passengers, it looked
like he was dozing, but without opening his eyes, Marty smirked.  "Dude.  I
can't believe you actually wept."

Brett shook his head.  "I can't believe you didn't.  It was `The King's'
gravesite."

"Of course it was his gravesite.  He died.  In, what, like 1977?"

"But he was `The King'!"

"He was a bloated, over-medicated has-been who keeled over on the shitter."

Brett's voice cracked again.  "I know.  It makes me sad."

Scott opened his eyes and interrupted.  "Okay.  I'm sorry for your loss,
Brett.  Speaking of sad, Marty has some news.  Happy news, but sad news,
too."  He glanced in the back seat.  Marty's head had shot off the rest and
his eyes were wide open, glaring at him.  "Mr. Special Advisor?  Care to
share the latest with the class?"

"I was going to wait, Scott."

"For what?  We have plenty of time to kill.  Craig's been humming and I'm
afraid he could break into song any minute."  He glanced over to his right.
"No offense, roomie, but you really suck."  Craig chuckled and flipped him
off.  "Anyway gents, plan on a hell of a party in Rockford on July 16th and
17th.  I figure it'll take a couple of days to do it right.  I'm in charge
of this one."

Brett wiped his eye and forgot about `The King.'  "I'm always up for a
party, but who the hell put you in charge?  You're not even from Rockford.
And what's the occasion?"

Marty patted Brett's knee.  "Relax, chief.  I put him in charge.  He's
going to be my best man."

There was silence for most of a minute.  Scott looked over at Craig again,
whose wide eyes were glued to the rear view mirror.  Scott tapped his arm.
"Uh, the road, Craig-o.  Please look at the road, will you?"

Marty took a deep breath.  "In a nutshell, dear friends of mine, I have
planted my noble seed.  Between now and September, I'm going to leave the
UW, make Jill my bride, become an instant father, well, step-father anyway,
take a job in marketing and advertising, and assist in the delivery of my
own child."

Brett's head fell back onto the rest and he rolled it left and right.
"Ever notice those little square packets around the room?  The ones that
feel kind of squishy if you pick them up and squeeze them?  Those aren't
balloons, you know.  They're called condoms."

Marty shrugged.  "What can I say?  It happened, and I got no regrets."

"Fuck-ing-a."  Craig was shaking his head.  "You knocked her up.  No
regrets?  Listen to yourself.  You're just finishing your sophomore year in
college, and you piss it all away for a few minutes of bumping and
grinding?"

Marty tapped the headrest in front of him.  "Maybe a few minutes when you
do it, buddy, but ol' Marty goes all night long.  And I got a plan.  Not
pissing anything away.  I'll be back.  Me and Jill got it all worked out.
Not to worry, my friend."

Scott was serious.  "Really, guys, he's all over this shit.  Jill and
Ashley are lucky, and so is Marty.  But we're losing a roommate next year."
He turned sideways in the front seat to look at Craig and the guys in back.
"So, enough about Mr. Fertility.  Let's talk about the important stuff,
what it means to us."  Marty rolled up a gum wrapper and threw it at him.
"Look guys, I've been giving it some thought.  It's a three-bedroom
apartment, but we'd planned on bunking in pairs and leaving the other one
open.  Let's do this: if anybody has a candidate for a fourth, we meet him
and discuss it.  If everybody thinks it'll work, then it's all good.
Otherwise, we can talk about scratching the guest room and each have our
own."

"What if it's a her?"  Brett piped in.  "Anybody mind if I ask Angie if she
wants to shack up?  Me and her in one room, Scotty and Craig in the other,
and we still have the office-slash-guest room."

Craig scoffed.  "So we can listen to you two bumping ugly every night."

"Well, not every night, but she is kind of a screamer.  Maybe I can retrain
her.  Wonder if she'd consider a gag?"

Scott threw the gum wrapper at Brett.  "You're sick.  But I'd have no
problem with Angie.  But if we don't find a fourth, let me pick up half the
rent."  All heads shot in Scott's direction.  "Guys!  It's a great place!
We already signed a lease, and the rent's not that bad.  I'm going to do
pretty well this summer.  In the fall, I'm going to cut back to twelve
credits at school.  That'll keep me on full time student status and keep
the scholarship alive, but still let me keep working 15 to 20 hours a week
in the caucus.  And with the scholarship plus the income, that won't be
much of a chore.  We've got time to hash out the details."  He looked back
at Marty.  "So fill `em in on all the rest."

For the next hour, they peppered Marty with questions, allowing him to fill
in the blanks on what had happened, when they found out about the
pregnancy, when they decided to get married and the job in his future.  By
the time they'd covered all the various angles of Marty's situation and his
future, Scott was beginning to doze off, content that all would be well.



The Australian frat boys were gathered with their luggage in the living
room of the house.  Handshakes and manly hugs were given and taken while
they waited for the vans that would take the exchange students to O'Hare.
From there it would be back to LAX, then the long flight back to Melbourne.
Glenn and Kip lingered in his room in a firm embrace.  "Thanks for all the,
uhm...hospitality, Kipper."  They shared a long, slow kiss before exiting
the room.



It was early Sunday morning when they pulled up in front of the dorm.
Brett was now behind the wheel, and he tooted the horn a couple of times to
wake up everybody else.  They unloaded all the bags and coolers at the
curb, and Brett pulled the car around the corner and into the parking lot.
After sorting out the various souvenirs and gifts they'd picked up along
the way, all four piled onto the elevator.  Scott and Craig exited on their
floor, and they agreed they'd meet back at the commons at dinner time.

Back in the room, they dropped their bags.  Craig looked in the fridge, and
swore.  "All I wanted is a Coke.  I'm gonna run to the store and get a few
things.  Need a Sunday paper, too, and I'll pick up the mail on the way
back.  You need anything?"  Scott shook his head and waved him away.

He checked his voice messages.  There were only two from the entire week.
But then again, everybody who might be calling knew they wouldn't be
around.  The date on the first one was two days old.  He was shocked to
hear Evelyn's voice.  "Scotty, ya' little shit.  Got the card, and loved
it!  Hope nobody got arrested, or picked up anything that's going to
require a needle in your ass next week.  Just wanted to say thanks, I hope
you had a good time in New Orleans, and you know that I love you!"  The
second message was only a couple hours old.  It was Suzanne.  "Hi, Scotty,
it's your mother."  Her voice sounded strained.  "I know you're probably
not back from the trip yet, but call home when you get this, will you?"

Scott dialed his parents' number.  "Hi, Mom!  It's me.  Just got back.
What's up?"

There was a pause that unnerved him.  "Hello, Scotty.  I didn't want to
call your cell while you were traveling.  I wanted you to get the message
when you were back in Madison.  I'm glad you made it back safe and sound."
Her voice still sounded strained, and the tone hinted of something that
sounded like pity.  "Uhm...Scotty...I'm going to let you talk to your
father."

There was a moment of silence again.  "Hello, Scott."  His dad never called
him Scott.  It had always been `Scotty,' or something mildly profane.  `Big
Scott,' cleared his throat.  "Ah..." his voice cracked and he sniffed.  "No
easy way to do this, son.  Your Gran' passed away last night."  Scott sat
down hard on the chair.  He took the receiver from his ear and just stared
at it for several seconds.  He heard his father's voice again.  "Scott?
Scotty?"

He brought the receiver back to the side of his head.  "Yeah, Dad.  I'm
here."

"Scotty, she went peacefully, in her sleep.  The doctors said her heart
just finally gave out.  Wade said she..."

Scott interrupted.  "Dad.  I'll call you back."  He hung up the phone.

He went down to his knees next to his bed, folding his hands with his
forearms on the mattress.  He laid his forehead on his hands and whispered.
"Heavenly Father, thank you.  Thank you for the life that was my loving
Gran,' and thank you for honoring her final plea to be set free from her
recent living Hell.  By now, she's with you and with her husband, and is
probably causing trouble.  I should let you know, she's likely to start an
argument even with you; maybe a sharp question about one or more of the
Commandments."  He giggled through a choked sniffle.  "Please embrace her,
tell her I called, let her know how grateful I am to her, and please accept
my gratitude for Your loving grace in giving her this final peace.  In
Christ's name.  Amen."

Slowly, he crawled up onto his bed, rolled up into a ball, and sobbed into
his pillow.




Author's Note: Thanks to Kory for his sharp eye and mind, and for the
polish that the narrative needs in order to be clear.  Thanks to Glenn, for
loaning me his persona for a second chapter.  (He really is Australian, you
know.)  Thanks to Billy for giving me unending grief over Marty's situation
(I know how you all love Marty).  Thanks to Peter for providing some of
Charlene's commentary about ripping off her husband's cock.  And a special
thanks to James for joining the effort in Chapters 23 and 24 by assisting
me with the barely believable technical stuff that I wrote into this
segment.  And many unending thanks to everybody who has taken the time to
let me know what's on their mind regarding Scotty and `the gang.'  You can
add your two cents with an e-mail to: scotty.13411@hotmail.com.  I
genuinely appreciate all feedback.

Be Well!!!