Date: Thu, 10 Jul 2003 00:29:05 -0700 (PDT)
From: Michael Garrison <mng1114@yahoo.com>
Subject: Two Lives - Two Loves: Chapter 5

This story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to actual
events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.  This story also deals with love and
consensual sexual activities between men.  If you are not of
legal age, reside in an area where viewing such material is
illegal, or are offended by such themes, do not read further
and leave this site now.

The author retains all rights to this story.  Reproductions
or links to other sites are not allowed without the
permission of the author.


Two Lives - Two Loves


Chapter 5


My eyes gradually fluttered open when Sunday morning rolled
around.  I stretched one of those terribly satisfying
stretches and lay back in the rumpled sheets for a moment,
feeling Jon's arm draped over my waist.  Gently, I moved it
behind me, trying not to wake him up, and slid out of the
bed.  Eight-thirtyish, the clock read.  After doing the
morning trip to the bathroom, I went over to peek out the
drapes to see what looked like the beginning of a sparkling
day.

Pulling on some underwear and my robe, I just couldn't keep
my eyes off of Jon.  Even asleep he looked totally hot and I
loved the way his golden hair always seemed to be falling
down over his eyes in the sexiest way.  I'd completely
fallen for this guy and I wanted nothing more at that moment
than...

Coffee....get some coffee, is what my body was screaming that
it wanted.  First things first, I thought.

Mr. Shepard had a really well equipped kitchen with really
expensive equipment.  The coffeemaker was no exception to
this rule.  I had never seen one like it before.
Apparently, it would grind the whole beans, filter the
water, steep the grounds and then, finally, keep the coffee
in a hermetically sealed carafe.  I was a little surprised
that it didn't automatically combine hydrogen and oxygen
directly from the air to create the water!  I just wanted my
coffee...that's all...just give me my fucking coffee before I
take this Coffee Production and Filtration System and heave
it out the window!  Sorry for losing my cool, but that first
cup is an important thing and absolutely nothing should
stand between a man and his first cup of the day!

After more than a few minutes of anxious study, I thought I
figured out how it was supposed to work.  Now, the harder
part...finding where he hides the coffee!  This time I got
lucky and found it in the refrigerator right away.  Whole
bean Starbuck's French Roast.  Magnificent.  I got it all
ready, pushed the start button and crossed my fingers.  It
made a horrendous noise as it ground the beans but a few
minutes later out it dripped...black gold...the morning elixir
of life.  God, what a tedious ordeal to have to go through.

The caffeine flooded my system quickly and all my anxiety
was swept thankfully away.  I switched off the alarm and
opened the doors out to the patio.  The morning air was
still cool and it felt good on my face.  Sitting down in one
of the oversized oak chairs, I just relaxed, easing my way
into the day.  Coffeemakers aside, this was definitely the
way to live.  Two weeks to go before summer classes
started...nothing to do but enjoy life and screw around,
literally and figuratively.

Jon woke up a while later and we headed out for breakfast.

After gorging ourselves again, we decided to put the top
down and just cruise around and see what the town had to
offer.

Like most suburban communities, there really was no center
to the 'Town Center'.  Basically, it was just the big indoor
mall, low-rise offices, gas stations, fast food joints and
strip malls floating in an ocean of parking lots.  Not
terribly picturesque.  The commercial stuff started trailing
off into residential areas.  Even less scenic.  A legion of
tract homes that were all different yet all the same.  We
could see a few nice homes but they were mostly set back in
gated communities; heaven forbid the masses should come
calling.  There were a couple of small clapboard churches
here and there and that was about it.  We decided that we'd
seen enough and turned around to head home.

On the way back in, Jon called my attention to a shop I
hadn't noticed on the way out that had a large diver's flag
over the door.  I was always amazed by what I didn't see
when I was driving.

"Hey, this'd be a good day for you to show me how to dive,"
he said, remembering the gear I'd brought with me.

"You got any equipment," I asked.

"Just my trunks," he said with a slight grin as he ran his
hand over my thigh.

"You better chill before I run us into that ditch," I
cautioned as I turned the car around.

"Good," I thought aloud as I pulled into the lot, "they're
open.  You got some plastic on you, 'cuz even the basic
stuff isn't cheap."

"Yeah, I'm set."

I checked to make sure I had my C-card with me.  Some places
wouldn't rent to anyone who couldn't prove they were
certified.  This wasn't one of those places; the guy looked
like he needed the business.

It was a typical small, kitschy dive shop with the netting
hanging all around, fake fish strung from the ceiling,
driftwood and cork bric-a-brac scattered here and there, and
let us not forget the obligatory shark jaws hanging behind
the counter.  An older guy was by himself minding the store.
He was nice enough but had the feel of a diver who'd been
bent more than once and had opted for dry land; I didn't
ask.

I explained that I was certified and I wanted to show Jon a
little bit about diving at his pool, hoping to get him
interested in taking a course.  The guy, David-call-me-Dave,
couldn't have been any more helpful.  We got Jon set up with
his mask and snorkel, a pair of boots and fins.  Dave was
really helpful in explaining everything about the equipment
to Jon in excruciatingly minute detail.  I don't think Dave
had too many customers.  I was finding it to be almost
painfully boring but Jon seemed to hang on every word Dave
said.  Jon, fortunately, was a really good listener.

"...but what do I need boots for," Jon asked.

"'Cuz the straps'll cut into the back of your ankles, plus
they make the fins fit a little more snug," he explained.

At long last we had him set up and I thought Jon was going
to die when Dave told him, "...with tax that comes to
$165.75."

"How much?" came Jon's startled question.

Dave and I just quietly laughed to ourselves.  "Yeah, that
initial sticker-shock catches some people by surprise," he
said.  "But this is the cheapest part of it."

"He's right," I said, tapping Jon on the arm.  "Pay the
man."

Jon shook his head and handed Dave his credit card.  "Be
glad you're not getting the whole setup," I said.  "You
would've had a heart attack, then."

Dave laughed in agreement, "Yeah, this ain't the cheapest
sport around, that's for sure."

After finishing with Jon, I rented an extra tank for myself
and two for Jon along with a regulator and a BC.  We were
set for the day, and Dave helped us load everything into the
truck.

Driving back, Jon was excited about learning to dive but was
still a little bitchy about the cost of the gear he'd just
bought.  That's one thing I didn't really understand about
Jon.  He came from money; we both did but his people had
tons of it.  So I couldn't understand why he would get so
pissy about, what was for him, pocket change.  I tried
spreading a little oil on the water, pointing out what a
great time we were going to have, how he'd get his money's
worth by diving regularly, etc., etc. and that seemed to
calm him down.

Gradually, we regained our upbeat moods.  That is, until a
wave of tense apprehension rolled over us as we came up the
driveway and saw the two Sheriff's Department cruisers
sitting in front of the house.

                         *  *  *  *

"What the hell are they doing here?" I said.

"I don't know," Jon said, "...but be cool.  We're just a
couple of fratboys housesitting for my uncle."

"I'll let you do the talking."

"Well, let's not get jumpy.  We haven't done anything."

My heart was still pounding a little more than normal as I
brought the car to a stop behind the second cruiser.  Two
Sheriff's Deputies were on the porch, a man and a pretty
burly young woman, and turned around when they saw us pull
up.  I wiped my sweating palms on my shorts before getting
out of the car. Just what exactly is it about police that
can make even Mother Theresa feel guilty for no particular
reason?  Jon cleared his throat.

"Hi, can I help you?" he called.

"Good morning," the male Deputy said.  "I'm Deputy Jackson;
this is Deputy Cunningham.  Are you Mr. Shepard?" he asked
with practiced professionalism, knowing that Jon was just
impossibly young to be the owner.  I noticed his partner's
hand resting nonchalantly, but steadily, on her holstered
Glock.

"I'm his nephew, Jon Shepard," Jon said, extending his hand,
which the Deputy shook.

"And you are...?" the Deputy asked me.

"Brad Williams," I replied.  "I'm a friend of the family."
The Deputy nodded.

"Is Mr. Shepard around?" he asked.

"No, he's out of the country on business," Jon explained.
"My friend and I are housesitting for him."  Hearing this,
Deputy Cunningham's hand slid slowly away from her sidearm.

"Well, we got a call from your security company about a
possible break-in.  I got here about ten minutes ago.  I
called in Deputy Cunningham for backup when I found the
front door standing open.  We were about to check it out
when you showed up," the Deputy explained.

Jon was very much surprised.  "I know I locked that door,"
he said.  "I checked it twice before I set the alarm when we
went out."

"You'd better wait out here while we look around, then," he
said.

We paced around outside for fifteen or twenty minutes while
the Deputies searched the house.  Finally, Deputy Cunningham
stuck her head out of the door.

"Mr. Shepard, you can come in now," she said. A little
apprehensive, we walked into the front hall.

"There doesn't appear to be anyone here but us," she said.
"But could you walk through with us to see if you notice
anything missing?"

We slowly walked from room to room.  Jon and I both
scrutinizing everything to make sure all was as it should
be.

"Oh, by the way," Jon asked.  "Did you check the basement?"

"Yes," Deputy Jackson replied.  "There was nothing down
there except for a really nice wine collection."

Front to back, top to bottom.  Nothing was out of place.
After searching in almost every nook and cranny, we were
satisfied that nothing had been stolen.

"I guess it was just a false alarm," Jon said.

"Maybe, maybe not," Deputy Cunningham said.  "The lock
doesn't look like it was jimmied, but you never know.  The
alarm might have scared them away.  And you're sure this
door was locked," he asked again.

Jon had an odd look on his face, like he was about to start
second guessing himself.

"I'm almost positive that I locked it," he started, "...but
the more I think about it..."

"We might have left it open, Jon," I said.  "We were in kind
of a rush going out this morning."

"Hmm," Deputy Jackson thought aloud.  "If that's the case,
could be the wind pushed it open.  You'd've thought you'd
see a broken contact on the alarm panel before you left,
though."

"One of those freak things," Deputy Cunningham offered.
"You might want to have the alarm company come check it out.

"Thanks, I will," Jon said.

"Well, I think that's enough excitement for one morning,"
Deputy Jackson said, looking around one last time.  "We'll
be pushing along if there's nothing else."

"I can't think of anything else there'd be," I said.

"Thanks for getting here so fast," Jon said as we all shook
hands.

The Deputies gave us their cards and told us not to hesitate
to call in if anything else happened or if something did
turn up missing.

"And just in case," Deputy Jackson continued, "...you might
want to keep the doors locked even when you're home.
There's more than a few nut cases out there that might like
a crack at this place and it's just a safe habit to get
into."

"Thanks, Deputy," Jon said, "We'll do that."

Then they drove off down the entry drive, kicking up a small
dust cloud as they went.

"No," I said, turning to Jon, "no, now I remember you
locking that door.  This is getting a little strange, Jon."

"I thought I had," he said.  "Let's just double check."

Again, we went through every room in the house.  We looked
in every closet, checked under every bed and behind every
curtain.  Nothing.  The basement?  Nothing.  Not even the
dust on the wine bottles was touched.

"Well," he started, "It doesn't look like anything's wrong,"
Jon said as he went back to the front door, double locking
it this time.  "It must've been some freak thing."

"Yeah," I said, not entirely convinced.  It didn't have the
feel of someone having tried to break into the house, but it
didn't have the feel of just some odd occurrence, either,
although I had my suspicions.  My stomach was still a little
knotted and I felt cold, for some reason.  I'd felt like
that since we walked in with the Deputies.  Thankfully, that
feeling was starting to subside.

"C'mon," Jon said, slapping me on the arm.  "Quit worrying
about it and let's get the gear unloaded.  You still have to
show me how to dive."

That snapped me out of the little spell I was having.  We
moved the car around by the pool enclosure and unloaded the
gear then went upstairs to get changed.

                         *  *  *  *

It didn't take me long to change into my baggy trunks and
get back down to the pool.  Jon had wanted to wait to
change, saying he needed to do something but offered no
explanation.  He just shooed me out after I was done
changing and closed the door behind me.  I knew he would
probably take his time with what ever it was; he was just
that way about some things.

While I waited, I got the gear set up and ready to go.  I
attached the regulators, hooked up the BC's, and checked the
airflow.  I was just finishing when I saw Jon step through
the French doors and I froze.  What a vision.  He was
dressed in a full length, white terry robe and his Matrix
sunglasses.  With his chiseled features and blond hair, the
only word that came to mind was sleek.  The length of the
robe made him look taller than what he was and it was just
tight enough to beautifully accentuate his silhouette.  I'm
almost positive that I was drooling.

"See anything you like?" he said with that huge toothy,
perfect grin of his.

"Nice sunglasses," I said, regaining my composure and trying
to deflate him a little.  He smirked a little as he undid
his belt.

"Well, how about this, then?" he asked as pulled the robe
aside and stood with his hands on his hips.

The blood left my brain so fast for other parts of my body
that I was surprised I didn't faint as he stood there
wearing a new, very slim, Speedo.  It was really gorgeous; a
green, fernlike print design that wonderfully put the accent
on his bulge.

"Veeeeeeeery nice," I drawled as I openly leered.

"You approve?" he beamed.

"Oh, yeah," I said as I slowly approached him and slid my
hands in his robe around his back.  "Yeah, it seems to fit
just fine around the butt," I joked as I let my hands wander
over him, pulling him gently into me.  I could feel his
steel against mine as my tongue met his for a long,
wonderfully breathy kiss.

"You get this at the mall yesterday?" I asked as we
concluded.

"Yeah," he said, reaching into the pocket of his robe,  "I
got you one, too," he said with that huge smile again.

My mouth fell open as I looked at the small trunks, matching
his own, dangling from his index finger.

"So that's why you asked my waist size," I said as the
revelation sank in.  Jon just chuckled and nodded, obviously
happy with my complete surprise.

"Put it on," he said.

I didn't have to be asked twice as I shoved the baggies off
my hips and pulled on the silky trunks that Jon held out for
me.  I could feel a little precum as they slid tightly over
my member and thought I was going to cum right then.  It was
hard not to with Jon standing there with that statuesque
body of his studying my every move.

"You look beautiful," Jon said approvingly.

"C'mon," I said, "Let's get wet."

Jon stripped off his robe and shades, setting them on one of
the lounge chairs, and followed me to where I had the
equipment set up.  He sat down cross-legged on the deck
while I introduced him to his tank, his regulator with
octopus and the buoyancy compensator, the BC.

"Octopus?" he asked.  "What's that for?"

"It basically has two purposes.  Say, for example, you're
down somewhere and your primary regulator fails for some
reason.  The octopus is your backup.  Also, say, your down
with your buddy..."

"Going down with your buddy," he intoned slowly, trying not
to laugh.

"Yes, Jon, that's right," I said indulgently, rolling my
eyes and hoping my quick agreement with his joke would take
some of his steam away.  It usually only encouraged him
more.  I never learned, "Say you're going down with your
buddy.  He only has the primary stage and something goes
wrong with it or he runs out of air; the octopus allows you
two to share air without having to pass your regulator back
and forth."

"'kay, what's the BC thing for?" he asked with none of his
usual flippancy.

"The BC is essentially just an air bladder that you use for
adjusting your buoyancy," I showed him the thumb button and
the release for injecting air from the tank and then
releasing it.  "More air to surface, release to descend, or
just enough either way for neutral buoyancy."

"Which is...what?"

"That's where you stay at a constant depth; you aren't
rising or falling," I said; Jon nodded.

Without getting into a whole big classroom deal about the
gas laws, I explained that, for our purposes in the pool, he
only really had to remember two things: breathe normally all
the time, don't hold your breath and try not to ascend any
faster than your smallest bubble, a trick an old teacher had
passed on.  I emphasized that he should especially never
hold his breath when ascending or he risked get an embolism,
even in as little water as was in this pool.

He nodded his head thoughtfully and then asked, "So when do
I get the knife?"

"The knife?" I asked, knowing his flippant side was coming
out for a visit.

"Yeah, I always wanted to have one of those cool knives
strapped to my leg!  That'd look pretty hot, don't you
think?"

"OK, fine," I said as he laughed, "We'll get you a cool
knife when we take the tanks back," I said in that
patronizing way that Jon found so amusing.  "I'm sure Dave
has a ton of cool knives you can look at," I continued,
"'cuz, Lord knows, we wouldn't want you goin' around without
a cool knife strapped to your leg.  Hell, why not get one
for each, so you don't walk around lop-sided?" I said as Jon
rolled on the deck, unable to contain himself as I went
through my short tirade.

With the comic portion of the instruction out of the way, I
told Jon it was time to get set.  We put on our boots and I
helped Jon on with his tanks as he sat at the pool edge with
his legs dangling in the water.  I sat down next to him and
strapped myself in, checking the airflow.  Fins went on
next, then mask.  I didn't have any anti-fog, but I showed
Jon an old way to keep his mask from fogging up.

"Eeew, God," he recoiled slightly as I spat a wad of saliva
into the mask, working it around with my fingertips and then
rinsing it away.

I pulled the mask on and down to my forehead and jutted my
chin at him, "Trust me. It works."  He did exactly as I did
even though he was still a little grossed out by it.

"Now, inflate your BC to about three-quarters," I said,
doing so as I watched Jon fill his.  I pulled my mask down
over my face, "What we're going to do is roll forward into
the water, and I want you to keep your hand pressed against
your mask so it doesn't get pushed off when you do.  You'll
probably do a somersault and get a little disoriented, but
don't worry; your BC will bring you right back up,' I said.
"Check your airflow again."

Jon took a quick draw on the regulator.  He was good to go.

"Good, watch me and do what I do, but let me get clear of
the side before you come in."

Jon nodded and watched as I put my regulator in, pulled my
mask down and took hold of it and rolled forward into the
water.  I always loved that brief feel of disorientation as
I entered the water, surrounded by a cloud of bubbles,
totally weightless, kind of like flying.  I came back up and
made sure I was a few feet away and signaled to Jon that it
was his turn.  I watched as he studiously mimicked what I
did and then rolled into the water.  I looked down at him;
his mask was still on.  He popped up next to me a few
seconds later and spat out his regulator.

"Wooooo!" he exclaimed, "That was awesome!"

I gave him a thumbs-up and signaled for him to release the
air in his BC as I was doing.  He followed suit and we
slowly sank beneath the surface.

Jon was a quick study and he soon got the hang of adjusting
his buoyancy.  I was glad to see that he was taking to scuba
so well and so fast.  He looked like he was totally at ease
with it, like he'd been waiting for it all his life and just
wanted to play now and revel in the new sensation.  We
cruised back and forth in the pool while I made sure he was
comfortable with everything.  Every now and then I would
give him the questioning 'OK' sign and always got an
enthusiastic thumbs-up in reply.

I'd be less than honest if I said that I wasn't checking out
more than Jon's diving technique.  He looked totally hot
underwater, very lithe and supple.  Every stroke of his legs
was like a ballet to me and I loved the way the dappled
sunlight played over him.  He loved turning somersaults
underwater and I loved watching his muscles move as he did.
Then he signaled that he wanted to surface.

"What's wrong," I asked.

"Nothing, everything's perfect," he said, getting that grin
on his face again.  "Let's wrestle!"

"Oh, this should be fun," I thought.  "Okay, how do you want
to start?"

"You start out over there," he said, pointing to the far
side, "I'll start down at the other end and we'll stalk each
other somewhere in between.  Give it, say, two minutes to
get ready and then we start."

"Sounds good; first one to snatch off the other's mask
wins," I said, putting my regulator back in and starting off
to my end.  The free form shape of the pool was such that
you couldn't see from one end to the other because of the
intervening curves.  That made it a little more interesting.
Jon had chosen to start in the deep end, about twelve feet,
and I wanted to get out of the shallow part so I had more
room to maneuver.  I looked at my watch.  About a minute and
a half had gone by.  Ah, hell, who was counting, I figured,
and I started off around the edge of the pool.  I was trying
to get to a blind side at the curve I thought he was closest
to so I could stay out of his sight as long as possible.  My
efforts were rewarded when, just as I was getting in
position, I saw Jon slowly creeping up from the bottom of
the well at the edge of the curve, looking like a soldier
peeking over the edge of a foxhole.

He forgot to look up.

I was on him in a second but I had a hard time getting a
grip as he saw me at the last second and twisted around to
face me.  Each of us grabbed one of the others arms and
wrestled around for dominance as we slowly drifted back
towards the bottom of the well, our buoyancy just enough to
keep us off the bottom.

"Damn, he's strong," I thought as we squirmed around.

Not that I'm some slouch, but Jon was deceptively strong,
probably because he was only average height.  He was like an
eel, too, very quick and difficult to hold onto as he kept
trying to break my grip to establish his own.  Occasionally,
we would break each other's grip long enough to make a pass
at the other's mask only to have our arm deflected and
snatched back.  I nearly got a grip on Jon's once and he was
getting uncomfortably close to mine.  We grappled for what
felt like a very long time, neither of us getting any
advantage.  Then I felt his legs wrap around my hips, his
heels finding the inside of my thighs.

"Oh, good move," I thought.  He was going to have me very
shortly now that he'd succeeded in fouling my legs and
finding himself just a bit of leverage.

I had to do something fast but I was becoming very
distracted as I felt his steel brushing tightly against my
own, separated only by scant microns of nylon.  The sheer
fabric allowed us to slide easily across one another as we
continued struggling, as he held his leg lock around me.  We
twisted and turned, enveloping ourselves in a cloud of
bubbles, our suits easily sliding back and forth with each
gyration.  I then felt Jon pressing into me, his member
lodged next to mine, and I could feel myself extending
beyond the top of my trunks.  I didn't dare break eye
contact with him but I was fairly certain that his length
was well over the top of his; I was sure I could feel him
pressing against my lower abs as he tightened his grip
around my legs.  He was driving me insane.  This was feeling
so incredibly good.  I knew that any second I was going to
begin pumping white clouds into what little water there was
separating our bodies, hopefully to mingle there with Jon's.
I was so close and I was beginning to feel that rising tide
in me that would soon be past the point of no return.  My
eyes started to half close and then...

I felt a flood of water shoot into my nose.  Jon had ripped
the mask off my face in a quick, smooth motion.  He'd
figured out what was going on with me and, stimulated as he
also was, waited until I was close and totally unfocused on
him.  He'd then ripped his right hand free and snatched my
mask, backpedaling away from me before I could grab him.  I
was disoriented for a second and a little ticked off since
I'd gone flaccid as soon as the water shot up my nose.  I
looked around for Jon as saw him fuzzily a few feet away,
resting on his knees.  I couldn't hear anything but I was
sure he was laughing.  I swam over to him and he put the
mask in my hand.  As I cleared my mask I saw him raise his
arms above his shoulders in strongman fashion, announcing
victory.

I checked my gauge.  My tank was nearly dry; I was sure
Jon's was, too.  I didn't realize we'd be under as long as
that.  Pulling myself in closer to him, I gave him a
congratulatory pat on the shoulder, then started to slowly
caress his arms, moving down to his hips, the only other
piece of his upper body not covered by the BC.  I moved my
hands around and in rough circles over his butt and I felt
his hands begin massaging my neck.  He was getting an
erection and I could feel it peeking out of his trunks.   My
hand came back around to take him in hand.  Gripping him, I
turned my palm back and forth over his sensitive head and he
doubled up in wondrous agony.  Every ripple of his abs
heightened in tense anticipation, every twist inducing a
fresh spasm and I could hear him moaning into his regulator.

Jon was close, I could feel he was so very close.  Then,
quickly, without warning, I released him and tapped him on
the shoulder, signaling that we needed to surface.  The
stunned look on his face was worth it.

I inflated my BC and waited for him at the surface, laughing
to myself knowing that he'd be as ticked off as I was.  I
didn't have to wait long.

"Hey, man," he yelled as he pulled his mask off and spit out
his regulator.  "What was that about?  You can't just leave
a guy hanging like that, I could suffer irreparable damage!"

"Oh, look who's talkin', you cheat," I casually replied.
"You were the one who started the sex-as-a-weapon thing down
there," I continued as Jon gave me his best 'who, me?'
expression.  "And don't give me your puppy dog look; you
knew you were driving me insane down there.  You waited
until you thought I was just about to cum and then grabbed
my mask.  Talk about interruptus!  That damned near hurt!"

"Yeah, Ok, I'm busted" Jon said quietly as he paddled over
to me.  "Friends?"

Hesitating just a second for effect, I said, "Always," as I
accepted his outstretched hand, pulling him into me.

Kissing is a bit difficult when you and your significant
other are floating in water, separated by a pair of fully
inflated BC's.  We managed somehow.

"You know," I said as we floated there with our knees
wrapped together.  "I'll bet you'd look really hot in a
wetsuit," I said with a smiling lilt of my eyebrows.  "We'll
have to get you one when we go back to the shop."

"Great, how much will that set me back?" he asked.

"Who cares?  Dave needs the business, but most
importantly...you'll look really hot!" I winked.

Jon and I finished off the remaining two tanks and I was
really happy to see how well he was taking to scuba diving.
After grabbing something to eat, we took our beer back out
to the patio and stretched out on the huge teak chaise
lounges to work on our tans and take a catnap.  Well, Jon
was about to take a catnap...my cat was about to get its tail
caught by a rocking chair.

                         *  *  *  *

(To Be Continued)

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