Date: Wed, 19 Mar 2008 15:35:34 -0700 (PDT)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: For Sale By Owner 41

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, in towns, cities, countries, nor governmental
areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene
involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then
you should not read this story. Additionally, if you
are under 18 years of age, in most state and
countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by
law. Check with your local laws regarding such. %
Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction.
In real life, use protection.

%

"For Sale By Owner" 41
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"Kyle?"

"Yeah, Scott?"

"I really appreciate you finding me a job at
Braddocks..."

"No problem," Kyle cut him off, not meaning to.

"But I think I'll stick with the bakery job at
Guerra's foodmarket."

"What?" Kyle responded as if he was appalled by
Scott's decision. Calming, he inquired, "But... why?"
Then stealing a look across the middle of the car, he
spots Scott hanging his head low. Placing his hand on
Scott's forearm he says, "I'm sorry Scott. You're the
one who should be making your own choices. Don't let
me pressure you."

"I appreciate all you're doing for me, Kyle."

"I know. Maybe after you've been at Guerra's for
awhile you will want to move up."

"Maybe," Scott settles for. "Hey, look!" he exclaims,
looking ahead, into the traffic.

"What did he say his name was?" Kyle asks, eyes on the
road, an occasional glance to the guy on the bike.

"Reiko Richter," Scott replies. "You're slowing down?"

"Yeah. Open your window. Say hello to him."

"Really?" Scott asks.

Before he can talk Kyle out of it, they are cruising
right next to Reiko on his bike.

"What do I say?"

"Yell `hey' to him."

"Hey?" Scott questions.

Before Scott can yell out, Reiko is stealing glimpses,
into the car. Scott yells out, "Hey!"

Slowing down, the Sebring moves past the bike rider.

"He'll catch up!" Kyle says, as the traffic pressures
him to move.

True to Kyle's word, Scott, looking through the
passenger side mirror, sees Reiko pouring on the sweat
to even up the distance between himself and their car.
"Oh good!" Kyle calls out as they get a red light.

"Cool," Scott says, loosening his seat belt, sticking
his head out the window watching Reiko pull up to the
door.

Standing there with the bike between his legs, Reiko
asks, "Have we met?"

"Don't you remember?" Scott asks, all cheery, as Kyle
ponders over one of the 'oldest phrases in the book'.

Putting a finger to his head, the twenty-three year
old biker tries to recall, "Ty's?"

"Ty's?" Scott questions out loud.

Kyle upon hearing, says only so Scott can hear, "Gay
bar down on Christopher Street."

Catching the explanation, Scott replies to Reiko,
"Nope, it wasn't at Ty's."

"Gay Pride Parade?"

"Nope. Never been to one. I met you in the middle of
the street." Scott smiled, knowing Reiko wasn't
getting it. Elaborating, he explained, "I got out of
the car and stripped off my shirt? You happened by and
tossed a paper in my window?"

"Maybe that's it," Reiko replied in a chipper mood, "I
guess I don't recognize you with your shirt on!"

Light turning green, Kyle was ready to step on the gas
when Scott opens the door, stepping out.

"What the hell you doing, Scott?"

"Hold it a sec," Scott replies.

Well, Kyle didn't think it a total waste of time,
braking the car, peering across the street, seeing a
guy waiting for the bus, catching himself saying,
'nice'!

"This help jog your memory?" Scott asks after hastily
unbuttoning his shirt.

"I think my memory's coming back," Reiko says, staring
up Scott's bod, running a hand over left pec, stopping
at the dark brown midchest patch.

It didn't occur to Scott, mesmerized with Reiko's
touch, that onlookers were taking on the spectacle,
plus cars leaning on their horns  behind Kyle's car.

"Scott! We gotta go man!" Kyle pleads, though his
attention focused more on the 'suit' across the way.

Closing up his shirt, fixing one button, Scott informs
Reiko, "I gotta go."

"Wait... take this," Reiko says, putting a business
card in his hand.

Acknowledging, Scott jumps back in the car and the two
speed away.

"Where does he work?" Kyle immediately asks, seeing
the card in Scott's hand.

"Metropolitan Opera??"

Rather than even trying to jump the yellow light, Kyle
slams on the brakes, stealing the card right out of
Scott's hand.

"Shit!"

"What?"

"Metropolitan Opera? You've got to be kidding!" He
exclaims to Scott.

"So?" Scott asks, speculating, "What's the big deal?"

"I'll tell you what the big deal is." Flipping the
card from front to back, then back to front, Kyle says
excitedly, "Fancy card. No, Reiko's got to be somebody
big at the Met. Maybe he's on the board. Then again, a
stage manager or even a vocal coach. Maybe he's the
conductor. Tonight you're getting Reiko on the phone
and inviting him over for dinner on Sunday!"

Not getting it, Scott shrugged his shoulders, agreeing
to Kyle's proposal, asks, "You like opera?"

"It's not like I haven't been to one, but opera means
costumes. This could be a big `in' for Alex."

Scott thought it sweet Kyle was thinking about Alex,
but had his reservations. "Is it okay to use people
like that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Reiko. I mean he seems like too a nice guy to be
used."

"It's not really `using' per say," Kyle tried
explaining. "More like networking."

"If you say so. I just thought he was a nice guy. I
think I'd like to get to know him, keeping that in
mind."

"Friend, huh? Watch him!" Kyle warns.

"What do you mean 'watch him'? What do I have to watch
other than..." Scott faded away rather than expose the
fact he really did care to see what kind of housing
Reiko had under the shirt.

"Isn't it obvious? The man has you almost naked in
midtown traffic?"

"Naked?" Scott questions Kyle, a laugh in his voice.
"I only had my shirt unbuttoned. You make it sound
like I was stripping for him. Besides it's like I
offered?"

"And you didn't you take notice of how Reiko helped
himself to feeling you up with his paws?"

"Felt nice."

"Give you a `nice hard on'?"

"Maybe," Scott gives hint.

"He gave you a boner?"

Scott breaks out loud in laughter at Kyle's
assumption.  "Not quite, but I think I could have
stiffened up if I got a look at what was under his
shirt," he exposed his original thoughts, though more
of a milder reaction.

"Horny bastard," Kyle inflicts on Scott.

"Nah. Only one guy has done that to me," Scott
reckons.

"I suppose, considering all the fun you and Carlos had
getting drunk at McCall's last night."

Pressing back in the seat, his shirt still parted in
the middle, Scott closes his eyes, as if meditating.
"I can't remember ever having as much fun as I had
with Carlos."

After a brief pause, Kyle allowing Scott to savor in
the memories of evening past, says, "Another reason
for you to be careful with Reiko."

Opening his eyes and looking more alert, Scott turns
to Kyle, asking, "You don't seriously think he was...
um... think... like I was coming on to him, do you?"

"You acted interested. Why do you think he gave you
his card?"

"I'm a dead man," Scott dropped back in his seat,
pounding his head against the cushion, automatically
bouncing back up, addressing Kyle, "What do you think
Carlos will say?" Before Kyle can get an answer in
Scott is asking, "Should I even tell him?"

At the next red light, Kyle took the podium,
explaining in a nutshell, "If you want any kind of
relationship based on honesty, you have to be honest
from the start. Which means not keeping secrets from
each other." Thinking it over, between the red and
green, Kyle says, "Y'know, this may not mean anything.
I mean just because you let Reiko touch you doesn't
signify the guy was coming on to you." Filling him
with other words of wisdom, Kyle glances between stop
and go traffic, spying Scott relaxed in his seat.
"Scott are you listening to a word I've said?"

"Sure I am, but...."

"But what?"

"I guess it doesn't mean anything, but it sure felt
good having his hand rubbing over my chest," Scott
reports back with a smile.

"Really? Did it also turn you on when Carlos' hands
were diddling with more than your pecs last night?"

"Oh man did it," Scott replies, lounging in his seat,
his thoughts cast to his inner dream, smiling when
thoughts of Carlos' hand, guarded by the table from
view, unzipped his pants and proceeded to pocket his
hand. .

%

"Alex?"

"Huh?"

"Call for you," Derek says, catching the eighteen year
old between patrons, running from the kitchen with
full hands.

"Whoever it is, get a number and I'll call back. Like
my hands are full?"

Getting the message, verbally and visually, Derek
reports back to the phone at the Matre'd's podium. On
the rebound, he returns to Alex with the message, "The
dude on the phone," he points over his shoulder, "is
David Sonnemaker... says it's important. He needs to
talk to you like pronto?"

Alex could have cleared three minutes to chat with
Sonnemaker, but instead told Derek, "Like I said, get
a number."

As Derek reported back to the phone, he stood dead in
his tracks, hands on hips, saying, "Jim?"

Holding up a hand, Jim Stooksbury momentarily stopped
Derek from speaking, as he casually spoke into the
phone, "Sure I'd be interested in coming to a party.
When? Oh, you're not sure yet. Number?"

Patiently, tapping one toe on the carpet, Derek waited
for Jim to give out his cell phone number, then hand
the receiver over. He relayed the message, shortly
thereafter hanging up. Upon passing Alex, enroute from
the kitchen to table, he blurted out, "He wanted a
number so I gave him your cell phone number."

"You fuckin' what?" Alex lashed out at Derek.

"You mean I shouldn't have? Oops! Sorry.... he said he
was a frien...."

With a heavy tray bearing down on his shoulder, Alex
chose to ignore Derek, carrying on with his table
waitering duties. After asking the table in general,
"Will there be anything else?" he turned to take five
in the `free zone'. His utmost thoughts at the moment
were on David Sonnemaker and the strong possibility he
would be burdened with phone calls from a man he
didn't care much for. Looking up, he spotted Derek
coming out of the men's jon. Spying Alex, Derek turned
to walk the other way. Quickly moving in Derek's
direction, Alex yelled out, "Hey Derek, wait up!"

Stopping dead in his tracks, Derek froze but didn't
turn around.

"Derek I want to talk with you."

Reluctantly Derek did a slow motion three hundred and
sixty degree turn, for the purpose of most likely
getting a second earful of reprimands.

"Look Derek..." Alex began.

"I know. I'm sorry Alex. I had no right to give out
your personal information without asking," Derek
profusely apologized.

"Mistakes can happen. What I was going to say though
is no big deal." Then to add a twist of humor to show
he wasn't peeved at Derek, "If it were any other guy
I'd-a probably kicked his ass from here to Broadway,
but..." Running out of words, Alex showed his
forgiveness the only way he knew how, lifting his
arms, moving closer, hugging Derek. "No sweat, okay?"
He finished off, breaking their hug.

Reciprocating,  Derek slowly placed his hands only
Alex's shoulders, for the short hug. When their bods
separated, Derek just smiled.

"What?" Alex asked, detecting something more than the
words and action of peace-making.

"Oh, nothing," Derek replied, the same smile creasing
his lips.

Then, detecting his own answer from the newcomer to
the gay world, Alex asks, "Don't tell me you've never
been hugged by a another man?"

"Well, except my dad and the priest at church," Derek
replies, still wearing the tight-lipped grin.

"So, when's your first date with your macho Equadorian
stud, uh what's his name?" Alex kids.

"Eduardo."

"And?"

With not much to go on, Derek shrugs his shoulders,
replying, "Well, ah... I told him maybe I'd see him
later after work."

"Cool! There's a start for you, Derek."

With not much to say, they both stood there, beaming
at each other. That is, til Bill Miller happened upon
the two.

"You know, usually people work to get paid?"

Breaking from their conversation, Derek and Alex broke
back into action, exiting the free zone.

"Jim, I need to see you in my office," the thirty-one
year older cafe manager barks out.

"Right away sir," Jim says, excusing himself past Alex
and Derek, moving sideways in the small corridor
between the employees break area and table settings.

"Have a seat why don't you?" Bill says, closing the
door behind the two.

Facing the desk, Jim looks over his shoulder when he
hears the tumbler of the lock click. He watches as
Bill makes his way from the door to his desk. Instead
of walking around to sit, Bill props his ass up on the
edge of his desk. Rightaway, Jim's attention is
grabbed by Bill's crotch not more than two feet in
front of him. It's all too obvious when Jim's head
bobs up to stare Bill in the face. "What?" Jim asks,
responding to the smile on Bill's face.

"I just received a call from our mutual friend."

A look of wonderment is painted on the twenty-four
year old's face, as he looks to Bill for an answer.

"David Sonnemaker ring a bell?"

"Oh right," Jim replies. "I talked to him on the phone
no more than fifteen minutes ago. So, you know him
too, huh?"

"Quite well. He tells me you're interested in
attending one of his `special' parties?" Miller says,
more in an authoritive manner.

"I might have an interest," Jim replies, then adds,
"not that I've done any of that stuff before or
anything."

"Oh really?" Bill thinks otherwise, slowly raising his
left thigh to his desk, parting his legs wider, the
fabric of his pants tightening up around his crotch
area.

The rounded torpedo, flanked by two rather large orbs
doesn't go unnoticed, Jim looking down, then
refocusing his attention on Bill.
"Um yeah. I mean I'm not gay, so I wouldn't know much
about that sex stuff that goes on at parties like that
or anything."

"Is that so?" Bill asks, his hands reaching for his
belt buckle, slipping the small tab of leather through
the buckle, pushing the spindle out of the one of many
holes, unlatching it, stretching it out to both sides
so the button holding the flaps of his pants together
can be seen.

"Um, yeah," Jim replies, a more keen interest shown in
the area below Bill's beltline.

Bill smiles when he sees Jim lick his lips. Either
working towards a confession or just out to humiliate,
Bill asks, "Too bad you're straight. I bet you would
make one helluva cocksucker, Jim."

It made Jim gulp, a reaction to Bill's frankness. "Um
yeah," Jim tries to con Bill. "Like I always wondered
what it is that turned a guy on, sucking another mans
cock."

As if a philosopher, Bill states, "There's some things
words can't describe. Only actions can explain. So
it's up to you if you want to find out the truth,
Jim."

Sitting there in the wooden chair, Jim gripped both
solid arms of walnut in his hands, eyes staring Bill
in the face, then dropping to Bill's crotch, belt
open, waiting to be divested of the rest of his
garments. Once again he unconsciously licked his lips.
His hands stayed glued to the chair as he slid his ass
forwards, his eyes set on Bill's face. Finally getting
up the nerve to make a move with his hands, he went
for Bill's crotch-zipper, asking, "Um, should I?"

Bill just sat there on the ledge of the desk, smiling
before he uttered, same time coaxing Jim onwards,
"It's the usual thing when a fellow wants something so
bad he can almost taste it."

Not only the sound, but the bobbing up and down of
Jim's Adams apple could communicate the nervousness,
plus the sweat which broke out on Jim's forehead.
Sliding to the edge of the chair, Jim came within an
inch of undoing the button at the top of Bill's dressy
pants. When he touched the polyester-cotton fabric,
Bill's hand was right there to slap them away, as if
trying to catch a fly.

"Huh?" Jim asked dumbfounded, wondering why.

"A `boy' works for his treat. On your knees, `boy',"
Bill accented ownership.

This would really pinpoint Jim's desires. Bill wasn't
at all disappointed when Jim's ass slipped off the
edge of the chair, his knees hitting the carpet. It
put a wide grin on Bill's face knowing he was slowly
beginning to own Jim. "So you really want it, huh
boy?"

Accepting his new namesake, Jim replies, "I'd like to
try it. Like you say, a man doesn't experience things
unless he's tried it and being I've never tried it...
well.."

The denial made Bill smile more. At the same time,
holding Jim at bay, Bill's crotch was suffering the
effects of wanting a warm mouth engulfing his rigid
cock. "Then why don't we see how you do your `first
time'?" Standing, Bill's crotch was almost in Jim's
face. With his hands on the sides of his torso, placed
on his white shirt, he looked down as Jim began
unbuttoning his dress slacks, dropping the zipper,
peeling the flaps of his pants back. Bill smiled when
he saw Jim mouth the word, `wow', upon seeing for the
`first time' a man's stuffed briefs up close, bulging
with man-parts. Once again Jim relieved his dry lips.

"What're ya waiting for boy?"

Without hesitation, Jim pulled Bill's pants down the
sides of his legs, letting them fall as he went for
the elastic on the lowrise briefs.
Sliding down his briefs, Bill's cock seemed to bounce
when the head freed itself from the elastic. As if
gazing at a painting at the Guggenheim Museum, Jim
remarks, "Beautiful," taking in the sight of the
thirty-one year old's hairy jewels.

Again, though a different twist to his meaning, Bill
utters, "Well, what're you waiting for?"

"Do I just open my mouth and take it in?" Jim asked,
looking up to his mentor.

"Anyway you want to approach it. Lips, tongue... feel
it up with your hand first if you want to," Bill
replied, thinking of letting Jim do some discovering
on his own.

"Ohhhhhh man this feels so hot," He said, taking Jim's
balls in one hand, feeling up the hairy orbs.

"While you've got them in your hands, why don't you
give them a basting?" Came Bill's strong suggestion.

Bill smiled as Jim used his full hand to make contact
with his tongue. Taking a lick he said, "I can't
believe I'm finally doing this. You don't know how
long I've thought about doing something like this with
a guy!"

His face out of the picture for now, Jim concentrated
on Bill's nether-region, a few licks leading to
stuffing a sac in his mouth.

"Ohhh yeah!" Bill replied to Jim's lips circling his
ballsac. "Now use your tongue to the ball around in
the sac ,boy," he instructed.

While doing it, Jim not only felt the euphoria going
to his head, but rather a tingling in his own briefs.
The hand that wasn't busy feeling up the rest of
Bill's lower anatomy, was working on stroking up his
own.

Noticing, Bill backs away, pulls his balls from Jim's
lips, reprimands, "What do you think you're doing?"

Freezing in place, Jim clutched at his crotch pocket.
"Um, it feels good," Jim replied, sensing where Bill
was looking.

Shaking his head back and forth, Jim tells him, "You
have so much to learn if you want to fit in at David
Sonnemaker's party."

"Why? What did I do wrong?"

Pivoting his foot on his heal, Bill uses the tip to
nudge Jim's hand away from his crotch, sitting about a
foot from the carpet.

"What's wrong with that?" He inquires. "Hell, if a guy
feels good down there, why shouldn't he....?"

Instead of a direct reply, Bill replies, "David
suggested you attend the party as 'my' boy. I don't
take any boy to a party without proper training. The
last thing any master wants to do is be embarrassed by
his boy. Get the picture?"

"Sort of. But I don't see why wanting to stroke myself
means anything bad. It feels good."

"Let me put it to you this way, Jim. If you are
accepting to go to the party as 'my boy', then you
will behave as such," Bill replied.

"Oh, I think it would be cool. I mean I hate going to
parties alone," Jim said, still on his knees looking
up to Bill.

"Then that settles it. If you want to go to David
Sonnemaker's party you'll need some training."

"Training?" Jim asked.

"We haven't got much time. Being you're new at this.
Considering you're a raw recruit, it'll take a lot of
time. Be prepared to start tonight," Bill stated.

"Tonight? When? Where?"

"After closing. My place. If you've got somebody to
call, do so."

"No. I don't have anybody. I live alone. I don't have
anybody. I mean like nobody," Jim informed him, a sad
note to revealing something of a private nature.

"Hmm, is that so?"

For the next five minutes their chat turned to
personal matters, Bill finding out the only living
relative of Jim's was a distant cousin up in the wilds
of Sasketchewan. In order for Jim to keep his mind on
his job for the rest of the day, Bill 'let him' suck
him dry!

%

"Hey," Scott alerted Kyle, as he pulled into the
private garage next to his townhouse.

"What?" Kyle looked around the glare on the windshield
after Scott's vocal alert and the tap to his arm.

"There's a guy sitting on your doorstep."

He never got a look, Kyle having to move, drive into
the small parking facility, chocking it up to,
"Probably some homeless bum looking for a handout."

It was on his mind, Scott wondering what Kyle would
do, but another thought popped up as well. "I don't
think so. This guy was too nicely dressed."

Parking his car in the four space lot, Kyle was driven
by curiosity, quickly making his exit. Instead of
entering through the backyard garden, he scurried
along the corridor from whence they just came.

"Hold on, Kyle. Wait for me!" Scott called out,
breaking into a light jog.

"Can I help you?" Kyle asks, facing the guy whom still
sat on his ass.

"Don't you recognize me Kyle?"

Cocking his head to the side, he ran a check face
check through his mind. Same time, the bearded guy
rose up from his perch on the edge of the slate
stairway, brushing his ass off as he grabbed his
backpack.

He didn't, but because this guy knew him, he made like
he did. "You look a little familiar."

Prying the shades from his eyes, titling the lid of
his cap back, he replied, "You probably don't know me
with the goatee and stache. Lance ring a bell? The
bartender from the Radisson in Lake Quinn?"

All this time Scott's attention mentally heard the
passing conversation, however his eyes more focused on
Lance, taking in the rather long blond hair, golden
hair covering the sides of his face, the smile offered
to Kyle at the announcement of his name.

"Oh sure," Kyle replied, his brain matching up a
hairless face with the name. Joking, he told Lance,
"Your disguise fooled me good!"

Looking over Kyle's shoulder, as they hugged, Lance
asks, "This a friend of yours?"

"I think he already caught your name," Kyle said,
ready to introduce his about town sidekick.

Instead, Scott jumped the gun, telling, "The name's
Scott. I'm a friend of Kyle's."

"Friend, eh? I like the sound of that," the single,
gay teen replied.

Scott went for the handshake, but to his surprise
Lance approached with open arms, engulfing Scott in an
embrace, mentioning, "Any friend of Kyle's is a friend
of mine!"

Kyle rolled his eyes, keying the front door. He also
mentioned, "Watch it Lance. His boyfriend is the
jealous type and has a mean right hook!"

Of course Scott and Kyle knew different of Carlos. In
fact they both broke out in laughter when Lance
dropped his arms, backed off, cased the neighborhood,
saying, "Yikes! I hope he's not watching!"

It remained a secret between friends, Scott reaching
for Lance's backpack as Kyle led them into the
townhouse, Lance apologizing profusely, "I only meant
it as a friendly hug. You understand that, don't you?"

Keeping up the hoax, Kyle says, "Scott's boyfriend
works around the block... I sure hope he didn't see
anything."

Out of the three, neither could be more in a hurry
than Lance, rushing them indoors, out of sight.  His
first order of business was, "Is Alex home?"

Sarcastically Kyle sums up for Lance, "If he was your
ass wouldn't be sitting on my doorstep?"

"Oh yeah," Lance realises also. "I knew that!"  Even
though they were safely out of view from the street,
Lance says to Scott, "I'll take that," meaning his
backpack.

"You knew in town," Scott asks Lance.

"Um, yeah," he replies. Wondering where Kyle has
disappeared to, he asks, "Where is.. um,"

"In the kitchen," Scott reads Lance's mind, same time
pointing towards the opening in the wall.

Walking in, Kyle asks the understatement, "Hungry?"

Pouring out some water into a glass, Kyle looks to
Scott, the two sharing a smile after watching Lance
make a beeline for the fridge, his eyes doing some
shopping.

"Sure. Whatcha got?"

Reporting to Lance's side, Kyle asks, "Depends on the
last time you ate!"

Standing up, Lance cracks a smile, not wanting to
admit. Scratching his head he confesses, "Like
yesterday morning after I crossed over into Jersey?"

"On a bus?" Kyle questioned, knowing he was probably
more like hoofing it.

"Nah," Lance proudly admitted. "I thought I would get
some exercise, maybe thumb a ride here and there."

"I'll get that," Scott more than volunteered, coming
between the two, shooing them away from the
refridgerator.

"Bossy, isn't he?" Lance questions Kyle as they back
off.

"Yeah well, Scott is like the brains behind the meals
here lately, right Scott?"

Standing up, kicking the door closed behind him, Scott
carries three containers, two plates wrapped in
plastic and a carton of milk caught in the pocket of
his arm.

"Need some help?" Lance jumps to it, reaching for the
milk.

Too late, but Scott replies, "No, I've got.... it."

Force of habit, Lance cracks open the container lifts
the bottom and starts chugging the milk down. He
stops, looking at his chest, saying, "Oops!"

"You're a real slop, you know?" Kyle tells him.

He went for the sponge, but Scott was alway enroute.
"Here you go," Scott said, much more kinder than Kyle
would have offered.

"Thanks," Lance said, taking it, brushing the milk
downwards, over his shirt.

"Who's Maroon 5?" Scott asks, seeing the logo on
Lance's tee.

Maybe a bit over-dramatic, so what, Lance gasps, "You
don't know who Marron 5 is? Damn, Adam Levine is just
about the hottest guy on the planet!"

"I beg to differ," Kyle says, rolling his eyes.

Scott chances to ask, "Ever hear of Mario Frangoulis?"

"He a chef on the food network, right? The guy that
says 'bam!' all the time?"

Kyle just shakes his head, addressing them, "The two
of you have a lot to offer each other in the way of
who's who!"

"Oh no," Lance interjects, "not when Scott's boyfriend
is capable of pounding me through the ground, right
down to the subway!"

Still Scott and Kyle kept up the masquerade.

%

©2008 T. Chase McPhee
This story may not be sold, nor made part of any
collection, without prior consent from the author.

%  A CLEVER Video Montage:
http://www.onetruemedia.com/otm_site/view_shared?p=54d421db0b3fbcb20c0b16

% Other stories by T. Chase McPhee
TOUGHING IT OUT
nifty/gay/authoritarian/toughing-it-out
ROAD TRIP
nifty/gay/authoritarian/road-trip/
NATURE WALK
nifty/gay/adult-youth/nature-walk/
FOR SALE BY OWNER
nifty/gay/highschool/for-sale-by-owner/
FRIENDLY PERSUASION
nifty/gay/authoritarian/friendly-persuasion/
DOWNSIDE UP
nifty/gay/authoritarian/downside-up
MUSCLE JOCKS FOR DOMINATION
nifty/gay/authoritarian/muscle-jocks-for-domination/
5b & 6c
nifty/gay/beginnings/5b-6c/
FOR THE LOVE OF MICHAEL
nifty/gay/highschool/for-the-love-of-michael/
SENIOR CUT DAY
nifty/gay/highschool/senior-cut-day/
STRIPEs
nifty/gay/adult-youth/stripes/
iCONS
nifty/gay/beginnings/icons
OLD-FASHIONED GOOD WILL
nifty/gay/beginnings/old-fashioned-good-will/
TIDELIGHT ZONE
nifty/gay/adult-friends/tidelight-zone/
BUFFALO BOYS
nifty/gay/authoritarian/buffalo-boys/
OUT IN THE WILD, WILD WEST
nifty/gay/celebrity/out-in-the-wild-wild-west/
CHRONICLES OF MARK SASSOON
nifty/gay/authoritarian/chronicles-of-mark-sasson/


The more you stretch, the more you can fit in... 'spread' happiness!
TCMcP.....