Date: Sun, 16 Jul 2006 22:17:20 -0500
From: fireflywatcher ford <fireflywatcher@gmail.com>
Subject: Winning by the Numbers, Chapter 5 : Back to Work

	Warning: This story contains scenes of a sexual nature
involving two men. If reading or possessing such material violates
the law in your jurisdiction or you are under the age of 18, please
leave this site and read no further.
	The author retains all rights to this original story. Please do
not publish or reproduce it without my explicit authorization.
	Disclaimer: This story is entirely fictional. Any
resemblance to real persons or events is entirely coincidental.
	Comments are appreciated.

	Winning by the Numbers, Chapter 5 : Back to Work

	When I entered the lab door and pulled on my white coat,
the West Texas twang and the cowboy vocabulary that goes with it
went back into the bottle. I became my college educated persona
with the cosmopolitan non-descript accent that opened the door to
get me this miserable job. People have expectations and as long as
you meet them, in their eyes, everything is fine. Back at home with
friends, I had better talk like a cowboy or they will feel insulted
and think I'm talking down to them. Around the doctors and
professors I'd better talk like an educated professional or they will
feel the same way thinking I'm playing dumb. With a red flashing
sign on your forehead, you have to give them enough of what they
expect and project just enough self confidence to keep them from
asking the critical question. I would never ask "you're straight
aren't you?" and giggle behind someone's back or threaten to beat
the shit out of them because of it. I just do my best to be me and
survive whatever situation presents itself.
	The snow of New Mexico had been awesome and the roads
were all drivable, cleared by snow plows. The cans paid for two
nights at a $25 a night motel. I had my poles and tackle box behind
the seat of my pickup and we caught a few trout in Eagles Nest
Reservoir even though the season didn't start until May. They will
bite on lures and don't take fly fishing to catch. Each time, we
cooked them and ate them very quickly to avoid any trouble with
the law. We threw snowballs, made angels, and slid down hills in
cardboard boxes, but didn't get lift tickets or rent skis. The nights
were as much fun as the days. I dropped James off and then
Charlie, on the way back to Dallas.
	Wanda came in right after I arrived wearing a T-shirt and
jeans. The shirt read "Keep Austin Weird" on the front and
"Naturally, I swim at hippie hollow" on the back but was quickly
cover by her lab coat. My shirt and tie had to be visible, but
women had more leeway in the dress code. At eight thirty Reed
called saying we were having a meeting at nine about the
foundation, but not an official board meeting.
	Reed was really quite an attractive guy, in his early thirties
and easily meeting the requirements except possibly the
measurement. I had no reason to wonder, really. He was so self
absorbed and our conversations were never on the personal level.
He began his little speech with no interruption from Wanda or I.
	"The purpose of the foundation is to assist gays and
lesbians in having children. There are no laws restricting private
adoption or having children through surrogate mothers right now
for single people. It may not always be that way. The religious
right is strongly opposing abortion and at the same time opposing
sex education and birth control, which is a contradiction. Genetics
should reveal the genes for gay men and lesbians over the next few
years and Smith and I felt that as soon as it became clear we would
begin to see the religious right counseling for abortion of gay and
lesbian fetuses. We are on the cutting edge of this science and hope
to work against that possibility. As it is now, we will never reach a
majority of the population and our goal is 'winning by the
numbers'. About a third of men are gay and twelve to fifteen
percent of women are lesbian."
	He coughed , took a sip of his coffee and continued
uninterrupted. "We have a number of marker genes identified for
both groups. Gay men primarily inherit gayness from their
mothers. Lesbians must inherit genes from both parents accounting
for the difference in percentages in the population as a whole.
There lesbian women and straight women who carry genes for gay
sons. There are both groups of women and men carrying genes for
lesbian daughters. Three other groups exist, the XXY, the XYY,
and those individuals who are genetically one sex and the
expressed sex is the opposite, that is, men who are genetically
women and women who are genetically men. "
	It was a long introduction. "The trisomatic groups tend to
be more violent and represent a large part of prison populations for
both sexes. They tend to be dropouts, depressed, schizophrenic,
bipolar, or have a wide range of other problems. Expressed sex in
opposition to genetics usually tends to be transgender. One fact to
remember is that regardless of genetics, an individual may show no
evidence of it at all. Twins who are genetically identical, may be
one straight twin and one gay or lesbian twin, and likewise one
right handed and one left handed. The diversity of the sexual
expression genetically among humans is forever interwoven and
can never exist separately. We live in a democracy and our goal is
to increase the numbers enough to prevent malicious actions that
do harm to society. I have felt, as others do, that genius and
creativity find a higher expression among gays and lesbians and
would feel humanity was loosing something critical if we lost these
individuals from our society for any period of time."
	He stood silent as if waiting for questions. First to come to
mind was "Why are we selecting for large athletic guys."
	"Straight men or gay men can produce gay sons. I would
like to break the stereotype of small, weak, effeminate men most
people think of when they envision a gay man." he answered.
	"Will that result in large athletic daughters?" Wanda asked.
	"No, a large percentage of men carry the characteristic of
dimorphism which means a man tends to sire large athletic sns and
small petite daughters. Regardless, all physical types will still be
seen, but a slight increase among the births from our groups will be
larger more athletic boys. We don't envision some Nazi like super
race, just the preservation of the gay population and hopefully a
large enough increase in that population to insure some equality
will exist." He finished.
	My total concept of winning by the numbers could have
been said 'size matters' before this and I would need to give this a
lot of thought. He moved on to other subjects.
	"Smith left everything to the foundation. He had a high rise
medical office building, a huge house on Swiss Avenue with a
carriage house in back converted to labs and offices, and twenty
million in cash and investments." Smith was a short bald
effeminate man and just before Christmas when he died, he was
sixty seven. He had the leading practice in reproductive medicine
in Dallas and was consulted world wide.
	"He never remodeled and only used the kitchen, dining
room, living room, and his bedroom and bath. The balance of the
house is in a deteriorated condition and empty. The carriage house
is in a newly designed and remodeled state. Since we all live in
less than desirable residences, I suggest the house be divided into
apartments with a central core for the business of the foundation
and we take the apartments for the board." Free rent and a salary,
plus labs and offices out back made Reed's suggestion a life
altering proposition. I gave him the name of a college friend who
was an architect now.
	"Next, I'd like your suggestions for two new board
members, who I'll consider before any other candidates, one from
each of you." I put forward James because he graduated in the fall
and would enter law school even if he was drafted into the pros
and played. I argued that by choosing an entering law student, we
could direct his studies in our interests despite what his practice
might center on. Wanda put forward a friend who was a
psychologist working with single parents and the children of single
parents. He accepted both nomination and agreed to interview both
of them.
	The last of what he had to say dealt with the assets of the
foundation. He was frequently gone across the globe, both giving
guest lectures and soliciting donations. Wanda and I had no idea
what circles he moved in. His apartment gave no clue. He said the
assets totaled nearly two hundred million so far, plus what Smith
had bequeathed. So why did Wanda and I make such small
salaries? Obviously the salaries were institutional, but not the
board salaries. He could have given us each a very tidy income and
not put a dent in the interest drawn on the trust fund. Maybe he
lived so frugally he didn't see the significantcy of going hungry. I
like a little meat in my diet, after all, I was raised on a ranch.
	Wanda didn't make any comment but excused herself to
the powder room. It was down the hall and the length of her stay
said everything without words. He left and said we would continue
the discussion at the first board meeting. I'm sure he never even
considers that Wanda might be pissed or saw the steam rising from
my ears. I'd talk with Wanda about the free apartments and see if
she could calm down. We had a beer and a greasy burger across
the street at a place we could walk to for Lunch, and then played
three games of pool with a couple more beers. Something worked
because she was happy and smiling after that.
	All afternoon I was lost in other thoughts. I put bin samples
in for DNA testing which would take a while to finish processing. I
made calls to potential candidates and did some screening. I kept
letting my mind drift to thoughts of small guys I had known.
During the summer breaks from college, I'd worked framing
houses but the last time was a two and a half years ago now.
Growing up on a ranch, you learn some of everything and jobs for
the summer doing carpentry were easy to find. Most importantly,
they usually paid cash and didn't reduce my school grants. It
would have been better to lay around back at home or help on the
ranches for free than loose dollar for dollar what I earned working.
Most of the crew was older with just a couple my age most
summers, but in cut off shorts and work boots they all looked hot.
	I could hear it like it was yesterday, "I'm not Bobbie, Bob,
Rob, or Bert, I'm ROBERT!" he'd say. He was about five foot five
and a hundred pounds if he hadn't sweated out a few pounds, but
he could swing a hammer and tote lumber right along with the big
guys, and get up there framing the peak without anyone worrying it
would all come crashing down before it was nailed in securely.
There was a need for small guys in this world and as far as Robert
went, there were a lot more reasons.
	The first day I worked with him was nearly five years
before, He invited himself home with me after work for a few
beers. We sat there drinking beer and every little bit, he'd adjust
himself and glance at his watch until finally his cock head was
peeking out the leg getting hard. Not being shy I said "that's a
pretty big dick you've got for a guy your size."
	He blushed a little and jerked down his cut offs and gave it
a tug or two. "It needs to breathe a little, I guess. Do you like to
fuck?"
	"What?" I stammered.
	"Yeah, do you like ass. Do you like to fuck a guy's ass?"
He stood and turned with the shorts at his ankles and gripped his
cheeks before me flexing those buns as he did it. I felt a sensation
happening in the back of my throat where I couldn't inhale and I
couldn't exhale and my heartbeat pounded in my ears, that is what
I describe as 'breathless'. This was not anywhere in my image of
Robert. He was the guy who let go with a wolf whistle or hooted
and hollered, or reached over and honked your truck horn when
ANY girl, pretty or not, passed by. The bulge straining at my
zipper answered for me. My jaw just hung open and I was in
shock. I'd never even thought of Robert in a sexual way.
	He undid my zipper and opened the fly, eased my shorts
past my hips to my ankles, and said "you've got hidden talent here
Dave. I don't see them this big, much." He took a swig of his ice
cold beer and plunged down on me to my pubes.
	"Oh, god!" was all I could get out.
	"Got any grease, man?" he asked and I fumbled into the
coffee table drawer behind him pulling out a small jar of Vaseline.
"I want this fucker in me right now!" he demanded. He kicked off
his boots and shorts, pushing the table back he turned and placed
his hands and knees to the floor in front of me. His muscle control
was so extreme it felt like he had two hands inside his ass grabbing
and massaging me as I stroked into him. When I came, he
increased the intensity and brought me right back to full raging
hard on. I begged to go piss and he said go ahead, but I couldn't if
I wanted to and I didn't. When he let me go, I had to turn the
faucet of the sink on to get the stream flowing. This went on all
night. The next morning, I tried to pull out but he held on until I
said it was time to leave for work, and then relented. I got shit all
day long from the other guys for the carpet burns on my knees, but
nobody said anything to Robert about his.
	My little remembrance was interrupted by a blond lady
entering the lab. "Sabes a donde puedo encontrar la officina de el
medico Senor Fuentes y Balderama?" she asked.
	"Seguro que si. Esta en el proximo piso, derecho arriba de
aqui" I answered. The conversation continued several minutes,
ending with her thanking me and me saying "Me encantada" and
she left.
	Wanda held her hand over her mouth a minute and then
said "Damn, cowboy, I wouldn't have guessed you could do that."
You've got to keep them wondering if there are any more tricks in
the hat until the show is over.
	When I got home, I made a few calls and eventually got
Robert on the phone. I'd spent that time down south with John and
gone to work at the lab when I returned. The last time I'd seen him
he was using methamphetamine and I sure didn't need any trouble
like that. He swore on the phone he'd quit that shit "a long time
ago" in his words. I invited him over for Friday night and gave him
directions and my number if he got lost. I wasn't looking forward
to the weekend alone. It would be great to see him again.
	Robert was parked in front of my building waiting when I
got home Friday evening. I parked in back and he met me at my
door with beer in a paper bag in his arms. We just got started on
our stories of what we'd been doing the last couple of years when
my door opened and James, followed by Charlie, came walking in.
	"Charlie just had to see Dallas. He hasn't been here except
once to go to the fair when he was twelve. We came for the
weekend and I'll take him home Sunday night" James explained
before I could ask or show my surprise. Robert was eyeing Charlie
and smiling. "Careful with the young 'un, if we break him we have
to buy him" James added.
	"I'm eighteen" Charlie protested.
	"Eighteen to eighty, blind, cripple, or crazy" Robert said
mockingly. "You sure do look a lot like Dave!"
	"Yeah, well when I put on a little more muscle and weight,
I'll be just a little bigger than him all over, but I'll settle for what
I've got now" Charlie came back.
	"Oh, really, so when do we get started ?" Robert asked and
I pointed to the bedroom.
	"You two are a perfect match. If I brought food to the door,
neither of you would see light for at least a year." I'd gotten
worked up thinking about Robert, but now James had come back
early.