Date: Wed, 2 Apr 2008 19:02:09 -0700 (PDT)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: For Sale By Owner 43

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" 43
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

After giving his information, reserving a time for a
second interview at the International Cooking School,
Kyle says to the person on the other end, "Hold it, my
friend is here, also looking for an interview time."

Smiling, Kyle holds his hand over the receiver, saying
to Scott, "He 'sounds' real cute!"

Giving Kyle a look, Scott wondered what 'cute' sounded
like. "Hello?"

After a few seconds of conversation, Kyle raises his
eyebrows, a little smile on his face, shaking his head
up and down, then mouthing the words, 'cute, huh?' In
retribute, Scott raises his shoulders as if to say, 'I
dunno!' Saying to himself, 'the hell with it', Kyle's
hand bats the whole thing away, heading for the
kitchen. Scouraging around in the fridge, he found
some leftover lasagna. Time passes and before Kyle
knows it, he's chipped away at most of the long pan.
"Hey Scotty, you off the phone yet?" Then to himself,
he replies, "Should be. It's been like a half hour!"
Receiving not a peep from Scott, Kyle gets up, drops
his fork into the almost empty pan and heads towards
the livingroom. Stopping at the kitchen doorway, he
peers around the edge. "Hell, what's he signing up
for, cooking 101, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 99?" Taking the
opportunity to eavesdrop, behind Scott's back, he
listens in.

"I think it's interesting we're both from
Pennsylvannia, Jacob. Oh you have to go? No problem.
Oh no, I won't forget to look you up when I come for
my interview. Promise!"

After the phone clicks, Kyle's there on the prowl for
answers to why it took him three minutes to schedule
an interview. "You were on the phone for a half hour,
Scott, you know?"

"So?" Scott replies. "Like you said Kyle, he's a nice
guy."

"I didn't say 'nice', I said 'cute'."

"Oh well I think in this case, cute means nice," Scott
tells him, still a bit of glow about him.

"Hmm... so did you happen to remember to schedule your
interview?" Not jealous by a long shot, but
inquisitive over how men seem to be attracted to
Scott, either his appearance or voice.

"Oh sure. It's the first thing Jacob did."

"So, the cute-nice guy's name is Jacob?" He
interrogates.

"You're not jealous of anything, are you?" Scott
begins to get the feeling.

"Me? Jealous? I don't have a jealous bone in my body.
No, what really bugs me is how it's your first week in
New York and already you have opera managers on bikes
hounding you down and now.... by the way, does Jacob
work in a private office?"

"He's a second year student on scholarship. Jacob
works in the registrar's office as part of his
work-study."

"My-oh-my. So, Scotty, what else did you get out of
him?"

While chatting they walked to the kitchen, Scott too a
bit faminished.

"Is this all you left me?" Scott says, picking up the
last square of lasagna and shoveling it in his mouth.

"I ate off of that fork you know?"

Picking a remnant off the side of his lips, Scott
replies, "Whacha got? Rabies or something?"

"You can't get rabies by eating off of somebody else's
fork. It's only communicated when an animal bites
somebody," Kyle gives him the lowdown as if reading
him his rights.

Catching on fast, Scott's hand drops to his side, then
works it's way around, between his legs, softly
massaging at the end of his zipper area.

"You can forget that too, Scott. I only do Alex's
popsicle!"

"Popsickle!" Scott says, never hearing the expression,
laughing his ass off.

"I can't believe you never heard of that, you country
bumpkin. I bet Jacob has!" Kyle jokes.

Off the track, Scott says, "Y'know we're both from the
same county?"

"Geez, Scotty. What else did you get out of him?"

Smiling, Scott rolls out some of the subject matter
said over the phone for the last twenty-eight minutes,
"We're the same height and we both have dark hair and
green eyes. Interesting, huh?"

"Very," Kyle says, "scrubbing the lasagna pan in the
soapy sink water. "Any indication about what's between
his legs?"

"Don't be a smart ass! I don't even know if Jacob is
gay and I didn't say I was, so as far as I know we're
just friends, okay?"

"Friends?" Kyle questions. "In thirty minutes you go
from strangers to friends. Hell, it took you a lot
less time to make friends with Reiko. I'd say you're
slipping, Scotty my boy!"

"Look, I'm not in any competition with myself to see
how many men I can have an affair with, okay Kyle?"

"Oops," Kyle said as he let the water run over and
over and over the lasagna pan. He did a double take
looking over his shoulder, seeing if in fact Scott had
vacated the room. Placing the pan in the dish drain
rack, he shot the sponge into the water like spiking a
basketball hoop. Whipping the dish towel from his
shoulder, he did a quick hands-dry and stepped towards
the livingroom. "Anybody home?" He called out, looking
around.

Fervishly, Scott was flipping through a magazine,
hardly absorbing anything, not even the pictures.

Coming around the sofa, Kyle asks, "Mind if I sit?"

"It's 'your' furniture!"

It's then Kyle really tuned in to how ticked off Scott
was. "I was only poking fun at you Scotty." When he
sat down, his arm bordered to top of the sofa. He left
it there for now, even though he wanted to lower it to
calm his friend.

"Yeah, I figured. Same thing when the guys at my high
school found out I was gay."

"What happened?" Kyle asks.

"Do you want to hear all the sexual, juicy details?"
Scott said sarcastically.

"Wait a minute here," Kyle got very serious, "I'm not
the enemy here. I'm your friend. I'm only trying to
help you Scott. If you...."

"Sorry," Scott replied, closing up the magazine and
tossing it on the table. "Kyle, I'm sorry I got so
carried away."

It became time. Time when Kyle could drop his arm,
something which was not a planned move, but part of
Kyle's personage, regards to caring for others. "I
shouldn't have kept on bugging you."

"You didn't bug me. It's just that... well I have a
tough time relating to guys and... you know it was
real tough for me to even think about meeting Jacob?"

Kyle was confused. One minute Scott's jumping out of
the car in midtown traffic and flashing his pecs, the
next a closet case, talking about 'boy problems',
seemingly extending from high school life. "Do you
happen to have this 'Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde
syndrome'?"

"Have what?"

Then Kyle stated what he was thinking, "Well you did
okay with Reiko," not mentioning the shirt-strip in
public, "and I think you got along with Alex and the
gang okay. So what gives, Scotty?"

"Sometimes I get confused and let my emotions override
the plausible. I know you're my friend, Kyle, but at
the same time I started to feel like... like those
bullies...." Kyle's head sunk down.

"I'm not going to understand anything of what your
talking about Scott, unless you trust me."

"I do trust you Kyle."

"Then why don't you tell me what's eating away at
you?"

LIfting his head towards the left side of the sofa,
Scott stared into Kyle's eyes, pondering the question
before him. Then he returned to fidgiting with his
hands in his lap. "I pretty much had my secret guarded
until halfway through high school. Actually further,
like til after Easter vacation. Bad enough I was
already the high school nerd. On vacation with my
folks, in Florida, we happened upon one of our
neighbors, the Heisers."

Kind of ahead of Scott, in thought, Kyle figures the
Heisers have a son Scott's age. Sure enough, that was
the case!

"As if Don and I were in kindergarten, our parents
hung out, telling Don and I should do the same. We did
to up until a point. You see, Don Heiser was this all
around jock, on the football team and built like a
tank. That vacation, he played a lot of beach
volleyball, showing off for the girls. I was on the
sidelines when Don tossed me the balls, saying,
'You're in for me, Broyles'. I had never played much
volleyball, only in school during gym class. I wasn't
at all attuned to sports the way Don is. Anyway, I got
out on the sandy court and felt miserable. Every time
I looked to Don, he was slapping his hand over his
face like this was the worst day of his life."

"He say anything to you?"

"Yeah he did, which totally surprised me out of my
gourd. He kept on saying stuff to build me up, like,
'Hey Scotty, don't worry about it, you'll do better'."

Kyle interjected, "Doesn't sound like Don is that bad
a guy."

"Same thing I thought until..."

This is where the story began to turn ugly, Kyle
sensing it before Scott even spoke.

"The volleyball thing was okay with Don, him even
saying a guy has to have a lot of practice, knowing I
wasn't a sportsy guy at school. Well, to make a long
story short, during the game some Latino yells  and
calls me a 'faggot'."

"Don picked up on it?"

"Oh you bet he did! In fact he was ready to punch the
guy's lights out!"

 "Sounds like Don isn't such a bad choice of friend
then?" Kyle remarks.

"It's what I thought!"

Readjusting themselves on the sofa, Kyle falls to the
right arm of the sofa, Scott to the left one, their
backs pressed against them, knees butting up against
each other, Kyle hugging a sofa pillow.

After getting comfortable, Scott unloads on Kyle, "I
never told my parents or anybody about this. Well, Don
did confront the Latino guy, Hugo, after the
volleyball game. In fact they wound up going to the
hotel bar for a drink together."

"He didn't invite you?"

"No. That was the strange thing too. Directly after
talking to Hugo it seems Don lost interest in being
with me."

"Did he hang out with Hugo?"

Scott was silent for a moment, biting his lip.

Sitting up, Kyle tossed the pillow on the coffee
table, placing his hand on Scott's calf, smoothing it
up over his knee. "I'm not going to understand things
if you don't tell me, Scott," Kyle tried forcing him
to carry on.

"That evening, after my folks and his folks went out,
Don comes to me and tells me he wants to show me
something. So, we walk towards the back of the hotel.
I questioned him about going down the back stairs,
when the sign read 'Authorized Personnel Only', but he
coaxed me on saying he had permission and he wanted to
show me something really cool. Of course I trusted
Don. I didn't have any reason not to. So, we trekked
down the stairs, round the corner and then he held the
door open for me. It was some kind of boiler room, so
the sign said. It was kind of dark when we entered,
lightbulb fixtures our only guide as we trasped
through the narrow hallways, littered with pipes."

"You didn't ask him where he was taking you?" Kyle
asked, a sense of forewarning danger in his voice as
if he was there on that evening, in Florida.

"I did. All he responded is, 'You'll see'. Well when
we got to a main room, I saw Hugo standing there and
another guy. When I turned to ask Don 'What this is',
he came out with, 'Hugo tells me you been looking at
guys in the shower!'."

"Uh-oh." I take it Don doesn't go much for gays?" Kyle
observed the omen of bad luck immediately. "So what
did you say?"

"What could I say? Not only did Hugo come out and say
it, but Don's opinion went with Hugo. But Hugo's
friend, who said he witnessed me standing there in the
lockerroom, pretending to tie my sneaker, was the guy
Hugo proposed I had my eyes on, eyeing up his juicy
cock!"

Kyle could picture the whole scene before him like he
was there. The dark, room, highlighted by a light bulb
here and there, the heat, sweat from the steamy
boilers, guys in tank tops, tee shirts and shorts,
looking like three against one. "I'm almost afraid to
ask."

"I dont have to go on if you don't want me to," Scott
replied.

Smirking, Kyle evalutated whether Scott really didn't
want to go on or was it Scott wanting to spare him the
gritty details? He made his choice, saying, "No. You
have to tell me Scott."

"I like haven't told anyone about it," he again
reiterated.

"Then double the reason you need to let somebody know
what happened to you."

"Okay," Scott said meekly, swallowing before
continuing, "At first it was Don doing all the
talking, plus getting a little rough. Yelling
obscenities and badgering me, he grabbed me by the tee
shirt, wrapping it up in his big fist, asking me
repeatedly if I'm 'some little faggot', pounding it
into my brain, 'Hugo says he saw you'...then Hugo
spoke for himself, saying 'His eyes were begging for
my cousin's cock.. tell him, Juan. Then Juan opens up
his mouth, and says practically the same thing,
stuttering along the way. Well, between Hugo and
Juan's statements against me, Don had been fully
convinced of me being a 'faggot'."

"Um, not that it matters and I don't want you taking
this wrong, but had you been sneaking glances at
Juan?"

Tight-lipped, Scott sat there, not saying, but his
silence proclaiming his guilt. Scott assessed the
situation, now in midstream with his story, not able
to turn back, blurting out, "I...I couldn't help it.
He was like twice the size of guys in the gym at home.
I couldn't help thinking how a guy could be that
big... and he had like these humongous balls. You
wouldn't believe the size of them Kyle."

"Size doesn't matter to all of us," Kyle replied,
anxious to hear the rest. "So, what happened?"

"I watched as Don forsook me, telling me 'I don't want
you hanging around me for the rest of the vacation,
Broyles. And don't you fuckin' dare," he put his
finger in my face, "talk to me at school! I don't hang
around with no faggots!'. I walked to the doorway of
the room, watching Don's back as he made his exit,
slamming the door behind him. I was ready to follow
him when a hand grabbed me on the shoulder."

This is the part which scared Kyle, but probably not
as much as Scott was on that evening in Florida.

"It was Hugo. He asked me, 'Where you goin', faggot?'"

Skipping some of the gritty details, Scott said, "I
told my mom I lost my glasses, but the truth is, when
Hugo grabbed me from behind, he put me in a full
nelson and his hand swiped them off my face."

"So they worked you over?"

"Yeah," Scott replied solemnly. "No way could I break
their grip, especially after Juan yelling stuff about
being a weak faggot and tossing his fist into my
stomach. I take it this isn't the first time the
cousins worked as a team, the way Hugo seemed to know
how to hold me tightly so Juan could take his sadistic
pleasure out on me."

The thoughts made Kyle feel creepy. He's had a few
small scuffles in his short lifetime, but none which
could compare with Scott's ordeal. "Come here," he
coaxed Scott into his arms.

Needing a shoulder for psychological comfort, Scott
took Kyle up on his offer, falling forwards into the
grip of his arms. "You're such a good friend to me,
Kyle."

"I wish I could have been there for you that night.
Berfore. Maybe if you had friends who understood none
of this would have happened." Another thought occured
to Kyle. "You know you had a good case against Don.
Did you pursue pressing charges?"

"I've thought about that myself Kyle. You're right, I
should have. I could have very easily gone to the
police and told them what happened. I'm sure not only
Don would have been arrested, but... I was scared. Do
you understand?"

"From what you've told me, I do. I can't imagine what
it was like to be locked in a windowless room and
accosted by two thugs."

"I also found something else out," Kyle broke away
from the hug, looking into Kyle's dreamy eyes.

"What'd you find out?"

"Well, during the scuffle, while Hugo was holding me,
he yelled something to Juan about getting their
money's worth."

Right away Kyle came back with, "Don paid them to work
you over? That fuckin' bastard!"

"As I see it he paid them to send a warning from him."

Seeing it before Scott said it, Kyle had the insight
to think, "The asshole let them do his dirty work of
telling you to keep away from him, the workover to
make sure you understood!"

"Yeah. Looks that way. Another reason I dropped
everything and didn't go to the police. The other
thing, I didn't think my parents would understand."

"I know this is none of my business, but did you ever
tell them Scott?"

Pausing, he finally broke the silence saying, "My
sister knows, but she agreed with me if wouldn't be a
good scene if I told them."

"Doesn't it bother you?"

"I'd love to tell them, but I know for right now it's
not the thing to do. Gloria and I are real close. I
figure she knows what is right and I'm going on her
intuition."

Kyle accepted it, apologizing, "Well if I said
anything in the kitchen that linked you to these
memories I'm sorry, Scott."

"I'm kind of glad you ticked me off. For the longest
time I've been wanting to share my story with someone
who would understand."

Kyle voiced his feelings, saying, "I'm flattered
Scott."

"And you have to be the most kindest person I've ever
met and you wait. I'm going to pay you back for every
cent you've loaned me."

"Let's just get through cooking school first?"

"I just want to tell you something real quick. It took
me a long time to get beyond Don Heiser, to trust
anyone again and.. I want you to know I trust you
Kyle."

"I know. Or else you wouldn't have told me your whole
story. C'mon. Let's go figure out what we're going to
make for dinner!"

Hearing the door bust open, the two got up after
looking over the sofa wall, seeing Devon coming
towards them, saying, "Hi guys. There is my friend
Jarrett I brought him home for dinner!"

Those lit up green eyes below the blond bangs always
tended to irk Kyle, when the flashy smile was added.
Snidely, he asks Devon, "Um, aren't you a little
mistaken, Devon? Like this isn't your home?"

"Oh yeah I know, but I was telling Jarrett here," he
put his arm around the eighteen year old's shouder,
giving him a friendly hug, "how you guys are fantastic
cooks and Jarrett here is like a gourmet!"

Scott and Kyle exchanged glances, realizing Devon
wasn't being so buddy-buddy with Jarrett, as the fact
perhaps Jarrett was acting as the lampost holding him
up!

"Devon, how much did you have to drink?" Scott was the
first to ask, like Kyle, arms folded across his
middle.

Second words out of Jarrett's mouth, after greeting
Kyle and Scott is, "I don't think Devon drinks
champayne too often, does he?"

Neither of the two could relate to him.

"C'mon," Kyle then offered, "I'll show you where he
can sleep it off."

Taking Devon under the arm, Kyle and Jarrett walked
him to the spare guest room, Scott trailing behind.

"Devon you know you stink?" Kyle says.

"Do I?" the eighteen year old responded, again
flashing the hard-to-get-mad-at grin.

"We've got to strip him. He's 'not' sleeping in my
house smelling like a wino!"

Plopping Devon down on his back, Kyle went to work
undoing the buttons of his shirt, turning to the other
two, saying, "Well you two, just don't stand there!"

Scott and Jarrett, total strangers looked at each
other, Jarrett mentioning, "His shoes!"

In no time three guys had Devon down to his 'Nouguet'
briefs.

"Nice," Jarrett said, looking and not touching, though
he was dying to.

Bold to say, Kyle bursts out with, "The bulge or the
briefs?"

"Kyle!" Scott scolds.

Smiling, Jarrett replies with a smile, "Could be um...
never mind."

"Anybody hungry?" Kyle skipped over the theme of their
conversation.

"You just ate the whole pan of lasagna!" Scott
announced.

"It wasn't the whole pan. Beside, you ate some of it
too, Scotty!"

"You left me a lousy forkful and bad enough the fork
had your germs all over it!"

"I didn't force you to eat offa it!"

Jarrett smiled, thinking what a comedy team the two
made, Kyle taking the honor of tucking the sheet
inbetween Devon's pits before the three abandoned the
room.

%

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