Date: Sat, 2 Feb 2013 08:53:11 -0800 (PST)
From: Tchase Mcphee <survivalgame@rocketmail.com>
Subject: A NiFTy LiTTLe TALe 17

The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any
resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely
coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons,
of continents or islands, in countries, counties, cities, towns, villages,
neighborhoods, streets, cul-de-sacs, nor governmental or non-governmental
areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male
relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if guy-to-guy
sex stuff makes you barf or is going to screw up your mind, you should not
read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age in any
state (21yo in Alabama, Mississippi, Wyoming, Nebraska), or in most
countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your
local laws regarding such.

Following, pages of this story contain `adult material', intended for an
`adult audience'. Bypass this warning at your own risk.

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

%

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%


A NiFTy LiTTLe TALe 17
WriTten by T. Chase McPhee

^o^


%

Things moved along very fast, once it was communicated with the board,
Samuele Hawkins-Jones suddenly retiring, as the headmaster put it, for
health reasons. For all purposes, they were led to believe there was a
preexisting condition, beyond Hawkins' injuries sustained in the attack and
his sore ass!

In the interim, Dean Martin accepted the temporary position.

Along with Hawkins' exit, Saturday night parties became a thing of the
past, rather if they liked, yearned for good times such as the feeling of
hands and sweaty bods in the contact sport of a free-for-all wrestling
match, sweaty in the way in which one of two or three would come out a bit
more than achy, than in the throes of a sexual contact, then they would
need a connection to the university crowd.

Things didn't happen without a reason and this was Jason's premise, when he
tried thwarting Xeno's plans about quitting Manfredi and taking up
residence with Kev, in a university dorm.

"Really?" Xeno questions, thinking about what Jason has thrown at him.

"Sure. Even though you were bent on killing me that first time we met, look
at now?"

Ever since a fifteen minutes ago, their mystery guest has been sitting
there, intently trying to make heads or tails of Xeno's and Jason's life
together, which apparently had been short-lived, over a period of one or
two days. Finally, with more than half of the dining hall filed out, he
gets up, "I have to go guys. My name is Nikhil. Nikhil Darzi," Nikhil
places the palm of his hand halfway between the other two. It's been nice
eating with you."

It's Jason who realizes, just meeting this - hot - guy, he and Xeno, mostly
by his own fault, has been ignoring him, "Sorry about that," Jason takes
the Indian-Arabic dude's hand, monopolizing it over Xeno. "Hey, you going
to be around?"

Xeno's turn to watch and take in, mostly pays attention to Jason. In the
short duration of a weekend, he's never looked upon his new friend with
anything but being nice. The guy he lost control over, even though he had
him by the neck, instantly forgot about it and turned over a new leaf
regarding his behavior. He even tried `saving his life' over the
cancer-sticks!

After a brief exchange of schedules, it's learned Nikhil, a sporty dude,
loving stuff like soccer and track and field, Jason reports he will put in
a good word with the triathlon coach, if he wants to come out.

`Come out', Nikhil takes to different meaning, "Are you... out?" he looks
between Jason and Xeno.

Still a spectator, Xeno allows Jason to do all the talking, watching him
try to add calm to Nikhil's sensitiveness towards the gay issue, "I never
thought about being anything different, Nikhil. The policy I've always gone
by is `be myself,'" adding, "just be yourself and let other people draw
their own conclusions."

"You should be a psych major," Nikhil replies.

"That's what everyone says," Jason laughs it off.

Eyes visibly on the clock, Nikhil says, "I better go. I still have to go
back to my room and get my bag."

After getting back to their room, it's his room mate, Jay who stirs up
conversation, "I suppose you bonded with those gay boys?"

They didn't know each other before leaving O'Hare Airport, Nikhil
introducing himself to Jay Chuweet, finding out they were headed in the
same direction. On the plane, Nikhil had alluded to his gay sexuality,
taking a chance, because he had a feeling Jay wasn't.

Quite by accident, Jay mistook Nikhil's query, because he noticed the
steward acting feminine for a male.

It is through this interaction Nikhil temporarily shut up about being
gay. Though, by the end of the flight, he was quite frank, which made Jay
accuse Nikhil of the crimes; hiding something important, falsifying a
friendship and worst of all, being `gay'!

Worst case scenario for Jay, Manfredi had arranged taxi reservations and
they had to share the same back seat. Furthermore turning this experience
into a nightmare, arriving at Manfredi, their eyes stare at the same room
reservation.

However, Nikhil tried smoothing things over, telling Jay he wasn't out and,
not knowing any better, intended on staying in the closet. He tried
convincing Jay there was no need for anyone to know he was shacked up with
a gay guy.

Jay was bent on things not working out. He left the breakfast table early,
a keen eye on Dean Martin, leaving when he left.

When Nikhil reported back to the dorm room, Jay's belongings were gone. He
sat down on his bed, ready to sulk, even though he couldn't afford the
time. Glancing around the room, he wanted to make sure he was right,
standing, walking over to a dresser and sure enough, look into empty
drawers. Then his memory picked up on something he heard five minutes
prior, `things don't happen without a reason!'

As Nikhil made his way to math class, he could only dream about maybe
Jason, freed up from his rooming obligation... if it could only be so, the
two rooming together!

^ o ^

Walking into Samuele Hawins-Jones' hospital room, Evan Puttski toted a
bouquet of flowers.

In a nasty tone, Samuele rags, "What are you doing here?!"

Giggling, because Evan knows, with the signing of the paper Samuele managed
to do, lying faced down on the mat of his private boxing ring, there wasn't
anything which could reversed now, "Gio and Antonio asked me to stop by and
deliver some flowers. Gio said to tell you, `no heart feelings'. As far as
their money goes, you're paid up!"

"Fuck those and fuck Gio and Antonio!"

Rubbing it in, Evan replies, "Now is that anyway to talk about your
friends, who treated you to a nice Sunday evening?"

Still, to squirm about, the place where Gio and Antonio's midget baseball
bat had been stashed, caused grief, fueling the fire, "They won't get away
with it!"

"On the contrary, Sam, are you forgetting about signing on the dotted
line?" even though the line was unbroken.

"There's always ways to make people get what they've got coming to them!"

"How true," Evan replies, sticking the stems in one of those containers
meant to pee in, "and no one can be more of an example as you Sam?"

"It's Samuele!" he says proudly of his name.

"Oh, glad you mentioned that. I didn't know your name was such a sensitive
issue. I'll want to keep you calm while helping you get back on your feet."

"I know you're getting to something here, Puttski. Why don't you just spell
it out?"

Putting on false airs, Evan replies, "Well, I know you don't have any
relatives, at least in their area of the world, not that, after they find
out what you've been up to, would `want' to have anything to do with
you... and since I have 2 weeks vacation time coming, I searched my heart
and..."

"You've got one?"

"I'll let that go in one ear and out the other, `Samuele', but what I was
saying, I thought you and me should go on vacation together, to
Jamaica. Only thing, your ticket will be oneway!"

It was a lot for Samuele to take in. First his schooling empire going down
the tubes, the `oneway ticket', charges against him, he laughs, saying,
"You have nothing on me. Your little scrap of paper will never hold up in a
court of law!"

"Oh, did I mention, while in Jamaica, you have a job interview at a hotel?"

"What?" Samuele cringed with such an idiotic manner of suggestion.

"Yeah. Y'see, I've got a buddy from criminology class, back in college. He
owns an agency in Jamaica. Remember the investigation, whereas the two gay
lovers went missing?"

Holding the conversation at bay for a few seconds, Samuele replies, "Get to
your point, Puttski!"

"Well, my buddy, Steve Hsui, in addition to owning an investigation agency,
does some moonlighting now and then at `his' friend's club, which I thought
would be suitable for earning a little extra income for yourself, after
your days of hauling luggage up the elevator-less resort everyday..."

He might've been worked over, twice in one day, sodomized with a toy
baseball bat, but when it came to Samuele losing the reins on his
comfortable lifestyle, all that pain to eject himself out of bed, partnered
with Puttski's plans for him welled up inside to the point of boiling, he
couldn't hold back, "Now you listen here..."

Everything Samuele meant to say, he never got to say. Regardless of his
condition, Evan showed he wasn't playing any games, gutting the former
headmaster with his fist, an easy mark for making him cave in to his knees,
with what was left of his abs after Gio and Antonio got done `wrestling and
boxing'. Stepping outside the room, Evan leaves him with, "Hurry and get
well. I'll return tomorrow with our airlines tickets. You don't need to
worry about packing anything. It always `hot' in Jamaica," Evan
laughs. Closing the door, he opens it, still to Samuele in a huddle, "Oh,
by the way, the office at Manfredi, mm-m, right about now, should be
receiving the fax of your resignation. `Thought you'd like to know!"

Leaving, walking the hallway, many thing flashed through Evan Puttski's
mind. Foremost, was the preservation of Manfredi Institute. Secondly, the
two weeks of fun which lay ahead. Too, even though he gave Steve Hsui a
brief description of Samuele Hawkins-Jones, guaranteed he would be a hot
addition to Steve's friend's gay bdsm club. Already Hawkins had an in with
the `rich' crowd!

On his way out, Evan saw someone, which he well knew was a familiar face,
the guy attending the coffee shop and after waiting for the folks in front
of him to leave the cue, says, "Hey, don't we know each other?"

It was the guy in the sandwich truck he had pulled over for having a tail
light out!

^ o ^

Apparently, Nikhil's room mate had paid the under-the-table $50 fee for a
late room change.

From previous knowledge, with his position of Dean of Students, Casper
Martin knew there would be some last minute sorting out of rooms,
capitalizing on it. Also, with the gift of `gaydar', he could very well
save a student some cash, not that they weren't reeking of it, by
performing some other little `duty' in lieu of the monetary gesture.

However, Jay Chuweet wasn't the kind of material Martin was looking for and
pocketed the 50 bucks! One way or the other, he got paid and that's all
that mattered.

After Jay leaves, since he was double-timing it, doing his `dean' job and
sitting as temporary headmaster, he had the privilege of not having to get
up and see who was outside his office to see next.

As the former headmaster, hand-picking his secretary, set standard with the
addition of Denis Bioga. Every guy who was gay, wondered where the
headmaster's brain was, hiring a dude whom did not have a streamlined bod!
Instead, the 27-year old's hairy stomach stood a little convex, though he
would not constitute that of a blubbery belly. Instead, a person could
tell, from the way the dress shirt fit the bod, Denis very well could be
defined as a `muscle-cub'.

Self-declaring himself a total top, no one would have a clue as to what
went on behind closed doors at Samuele's small saltbox house in the
woods. Keeping to himself, other than his job as headmaster of Manfredi, to
others, headmaster of Saturday night get togethers, very little was made
public beyond his professional life.

This is why no one had a clue to how the Barcelona muscle-bear got his job
and kept it, considering he could be quite pompous from time to time, like
right now, opening the door to Dean Martin's temporary office, announcing
"Jason Croft, next," and after Jason's ass clears the door, slams it shut.

Looking behind him, at the closed door, Jason says, "Noisy punk!" he
laughs.

It wasn't his first encounter with Jason and after putting the name with
the face, Dean Martin steps out of his official demeanor, rising out of his
chair and greeting, "How's it going Jason? Finding your way around?"

"Yeah," Jason replies and with a joyous tone, "but I need another blowjob!"

"By all means, have a seat. Business first and pleasure later?!"

As Jason sat, he remembers it was adequate, but not great `sex', forfeiting
the chance of working with rod into the dean's backside, quickly getting
down to business, "I need a new room and, whether you've heard or not,
Xeno... I mean Cristano Xen.., whatever the rest of it is, uh, is thinking
of..."

"I'm well aware of Cristano Xenopolis' request to transfer, which in
essence, is little we can do about it, if a student wishes to leave campus
and what I assume, you wish to secure his room, well there's a waiting list
and if people would go through the proper channels and..."

`Whoa, man!' Jason was thinking, not needing read his rights, or the code
of ethics regarding changing of rooms, following procedure, coming to his
office to discuss the matter before going right ahead, but allowed the dean
to ramble on, get it out of his system, "I'll make it worth your while to
forget it?" Jason replies, almost sorry he said it, on the premise it could
get ugly, do something against his will!

He stare at Jason for a few seconds, after his technical speech, before
saying, "Well, I guess I could let it go this one time?"

Seeing the dean a little bent out of shape, Jason acts out with compassion,
"When do you want to give me a blowjob?"

It did the trick, Dean Martin relaxing in his newly acquired swivel chair,
even if only temporary, "Your friend's little hijinks might require a
little more upping the ante?"

Sensing he could be just as strict at cutting a business deal as the dean,
Jason replies, "I'm not crazy about fucking you. How about I have some
other guy bust in the back door?"

He figured right, Martin's balls churning with excitement, "Oh really? You
know of such a guy?"

Exaggerating, Jason replies, "Ten inches, fat, long as your arm?"

"Mm-mm!" a wide smile completed Dean Martin's emotional high. "When?"

"Whenever I can arrange it," Jason replies, diverting attention immediately
afterwards, "what room do you have for me?"

"You're just in luck," Martin begins tapping on his computer keyboard with
one hand, the other `busy', "I had one of our faculty cancel the last
minute and since his cottage won't be occupied for this semester..."

"No, I'm not settling down to pick up in the middle of the year and move. I
need something for the whole school year."

A driven man, Martin retorts, "Who is this guy? I'm curious."

"First we finish with my business, then we finish `your` business."

With the power to do so, Dean Martin makes some adjustments to the housing
grid on his computer, assigning Jason the cottage meant for a faculty
member who quit before he got started, for the course of the school.

"There ya go!" Martin taps one key, `enter', which updates the housing
grid.

Eagerly waiting, Jason, who hasn't confronted Xeno yet, says, "Um, like
thanks, but I need to arrange it all. What's your cell number?"

It was forbidden, or rather played down, the sharing of phone numbers
between students and professors, though mostly ignored, Martin
tight-lipped.

"No number, no fuck?" Jason reasons.

Rattling off 10 digits, Jason memorized them easily. It's one of the ways
he kept track of things before he made it to his cell, in the olden days of
`Trickeeping 101', before Jason got to a convenient place to store names
and numbers.

"Oh," Jason furthers, "if I should happen to find a room mate, or two, I'll
let you know," letting the dean know, since he figures he has this hidden
power, would skip over protocol.

"Fine," confirmed Jason's thoughts.

He walked out of Dean Martin's office satisfied with his lodging
accommodations, however something kept him from stepping out from the
headmaster's office altogether.

Walking over to the secretary's desk, Jason confronts the cub, "I wanted to
thank you for making sure I got to see the dean, um..." Jason looks down at
the brass name on the triangular bar, "Mr. Bioga."

"It's pronounced `Bee-o-gah'."

He knew he got past first base, the secretary ceasing to type, turning in
his chair, facing him, in lieu of chatting and keeping his fingers busy,
"Sorry Mr. Bioga."

"No problem, Mr. Croft. I see you have secured the last empty cottage,
meant for faculty. You must be pretty special?"

Laughing, Jason replies, "New news travels fast around here!"

Bioga relays, "I was in the process of drawing up a final list of rooming
assignments, when the secluded cottage in the woods became unavailable."

It was weird, Jason thought, Bioga's description of the cottage. Was this
cub-dude coming onto him? Making a quick assessment of the situation, Jason
discovers all the prerequisites for preliminary itinerary of wanting to
even date a guy, centering his next words on, "Secluded? In the woods?"

"There's a history of that specific cottage."

"Cool," Jason glances at the clock on the wall, "I'd love to hear it, but
I've got math class," realizing the tense, "had math class?"

Whipping a pad out of his center drawer, Bioga replies, "Lucky for you I'm
authorized to sign late passes with Dean Martin's name!"

"Cool!" Jason replies. Over zealous, "Very cool!"

Watching Bioga fill out the late pass, Jason's eyes studied the physical
features from head to the ledge of the desk, nicely styled hair, brown,
matching goatee, then because clothes stopped him from checking out more
physical details, Jason could see him having rounded pecs, two perky nips
indelible on the pull of the fabric and small convexness to the stomach.

"Here you go, Jason."

`Wow!' Jason thought, he used my `real' name, which in turn he tested,
"Thanks, Denis."

He thought he was advancing kind of fast, at least with checking the
secretary out, Jason floored, when Denis says, "School is more important
than story about one of the cottages. Why don't you run along and we can
play catch up later?"

"Thanks," Jason replies, hightailing it out of there. His concern wasn't
being late to class, but his excitement. Already his juices were flowing,
on speculation of a hairy frontal assault, if he ever got the chance to see
Denis without a shirt. `Oh my god!' he thought, if it went the distance,
the pants coming off. Nothing scared Jason, and as he thought on it, "Not
even a bear in the woods!"

"Excuse me, are you lost?"

Good thing he had the pass, even though he knew the voice, "No, Uncle
Kevin. I have a pass?"

Taking it, Coach Leeds scrutinizes it, "Looks legit!"

"No, it's fake!"

Turning it over, playing it could be fake, Kevin discovers, "Who's phone
number?"

"Oh shit! Gimme that!" he grabs it out of Kevin's hand.

"Got a hot date lined up, `nephew'?"

Rather than talk about the only dude who could've written his number on the
back of the late pass, Jason replies, "What's so special about the cottage
in the woods?"

"I thought you were late to class?"

Jason replies, "I've aced math before the class even started. The cottage?"

"Smarty!" Kevin replies. In a nutshell, Kevin dished out information,
making Jason feel like a king, since only privileged people were allowed to
set foot in the cottage in the woods. He didn't tell all, saving Jason's
reaction, which would most likely be priceless.

Mentioning two names, Jason asks, "Puttski? Any relation to the cop?"

Kevin replies, "Oh, you've been served with a speeding ticket too?"

Meant to send a message, Jason lies, "No, for loitering in a public mens
room!"

"Exchanging cock sizes?" Kevin laughs.

"It's almost second period. I should at least show my face. Anything else
about the cottage?"

"Secluded?" Kevin replies.

"Denis used the same word."

"`Denis', is it?" Kevin assumes more. "Hm-m," he says, obviously knowing
more than Jason.

Already, they were almost like a father-son relationship, Jason asking,
"What do you know about him?"

"If you're asking if I've slept with him, nada."

"At least that's something. I know for sure now he's gay!"

Smirking, Kevin replies, "No, really? I was wondering why he wrote his
number on the back? Oh wait. Delay that. I forgot. He runs a dial-a-history
phone service about cottages in the woods!"

"What else?" Jason asks.

"Uh, let's see. Lemme see if I can think up some superlatives; kind,
loving, tender, caring, benevolent, charitable, munificent..."

"Mu-ni-fi-what?"

"Oh my god!" Kevin exclaims.

"What?"

"I'm smarter than you!"

"I'll look it up later. What else?"

"Get to class!"

Figuring there wasn't much else to tell, Jason adheres to his uncle's
orders, walking off to the last five minutes of math class. Not as smart as
he thinks he is, after surrendering the pass to his math professor, Jason
realizes the phone number is on the back. He tries like hell to remember
it, but nothing comes to mind, except Denis Bioga's phone number in
possession of his math professor!

%

Copyright 2013 T. Chase McPhee

`A NiFTy LiTTLe TALe', and developing segments of this story, may not be
sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the
author.