Date: Sun, 27 Feb 2011 12:12:06 -0800 (PST)
From: Chase McPhee <survivalgame@ymail.com>
Subject: THe FoiLs of FLeTcH VaN DaM 07

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 most
states 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.

THe FoiLs of FLeTcH VaN DaM 07
WriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

Pieter was quite amazed how Dash Carter could keep a conversation with a
kid, entertaining Fletch throughout dinner with his stories of when he was
a kid and then relating to his own kid-stories about his nephews and
nieces, throwing in a few crocodiles, kangaroos and koala bears.

Of course there were unspoken jaunts, Jason and Pieter knowing Dash's hand
move under the table, most likely traveling to Berk's thigh and possibly
further.

Circular, it seemed more square, two across, Fletch taking up the `kings'
chair at the head of the table, Jason and his dad gathered more together at
a table leg.

"Mr. Carter?"

"You can call me `Dash'," Dash offers.

"Do you think, if it's okay with my dad, we can make a visit to you at your
house on the ocean?" He looked more to his father for approval, but in a
delayed manner switched to Jason, his thoughts asking permission, `You too,
Jason?'

"It's up to him," Jason pointed the finger to Pieter, poking him in the
arm.

Giving the go ahead, Pieter poses the question, "It would be up to Dash. If
it's okay with him?"

Before he can, Fletch comes out with, "It would be good for us, to help us
forget about our troubles," he ends on a somber tone.

"Oh?" Dash's eyes interrogate Pieter.

"My spouse, the boy's mother passed away recently."

Jason says, "Two days ago, to be exact."

Berk jumps in with, "Y'know, I couldn't put my finger on it, but I knew
there was something amiss when you checked in today?"

"I know!" Fletch exclaims.

"What?" all four ask.

"I was gonna ask, but forgot to ask Berk if I could have a ride on his
cart!"

Attitudes changing, from sad to glad, they all giggled at Fletch's antics.

As prophecy prevailed, a week later the three piled into Pieter's car and
headed down to the shore, to Dash's beach cottage, which turned out to be
more than a square salt box home. Built in layers, it hardly seemed the
geology of the area sloped, except within the confines of the extravagant,
lavish beach property.

Unknown to them, after their evening dinner at Castle Arabesque, Dash and
Berk became quite good friends. Convincing Berk he was wasting his time as
a hotel bellhop, he quit his job and moved into the beach front
estate. Dash set him up at the nearby college to further Berk's
studies. Too, Dash told him there was no reason for working, upon which
Berk protested. So was born a new position in the Carter household,
`house-servant', which meant Berk would ad lib, making up his job as it
went along. >From the start, first night he moved in, he took it upon
himself the chore of turning down Dash's bed clothes!

There at the drive, after they pulled in, Berk was there, greeting them
with a tray full of drinks, little umbrellas popping out the tops of
coconuts.

"And one for you!" Berk said, after dishing one each out to Jason and
Pieter, he places one in Fletch's hands.

Right away Pieter cautions, "I hope..."

Knowing, Berk cuts him off, "A mixture of fruit juices and a multitude of
crushed ice!"

"Mm-m-m, tasty!" Fletch says after sucking some juice through a skinny
straw.

"Very," Jason says, eyeing Berk up and down in his speedo-clad bod.

It didn't go past Fletch, Jason looking straight down at Berk's `privates',
him saying, "Do they have skinny swim suits for boys too?"

Skinny, because there was hardly anything but two small pieces, fractions
of an inch keeping the pouch in between Berk's legs from losing its load!

Pieter lets Berk off the hook, "We brought our own swim trunks, Fletch."

"Okay," Fletch accepts. "Hey! You got any more of these coconuts?" His
sipping noise makes it obvious Fletch is at the bottom of his coconut.

While Berk helped Fletch to finding more umbrella thirst quenchers, Jason
and Pieter unload the trunk.

"I'd like to have a taste of `those' coconuts!"

"Now, now," Jason warns, "remember what daddy said about throwing around
`that' type of language?"

Pieter smiled, replying, "Yeah and I meant it. However, it doesn't hurt to
think about it!"

"Hey dad and Jason! Guess what?"

Jason, his eyes on Berk's package, says, "No, it definitely doesn't!"

Pieter asks, "What?"

"I was telling Berk I was wishing my friend Tyler could be here and he says
I can invite him to come down to the beach!"

Pieter asks, "If Dash says it's fine with him?"

Berk replies, "Oh, Dash isn't here. He's off to Cali for the weekend and
has left everything in my hands."

"Dash not here?" Jason says, with another top-to-bottom glance, giving the
once over to the twenty-three year old.

Hooked on the umbrella juice, Fletch whines, "Oh, Mr. Carter's not here?"
Being he was a kid and not adult, with a kid's height, Fletch was right in
front of Berk's crotch. He admired such a bulge, trying to figure it
out. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask how he managed to keep all of
that inside without having any of it pop out, but then Fletch remembered
his long talks with Jason about men and their anatomy and stuff like
touching their treasure trails and how it wouldn't be right probably to ask
Berk.

"So, you're the big man in charge?" Jason asks, a teasing glance to his
speedo.

Skipping over Jason's reference, Berk exclaims, "It would be perfectly fine
if Fletch would like to have his friend visit. I'll arrange for a car to
pick him up and bring him here?"

"Fine with us," Pieter says, putting a hand on Jason's shoulder, as if
showing title to Jason's person.

So it was arranged and Fletch was in seventh heaven, his best friend
spending the next week with him, his dad and `other' best friend. Stopping
for a moment to think, Fletch made amends, placing Jason first, Tyler
second. Even though he was an adult, Fletch moved Jason up to the top
slot. Next he thought, since he was a kid and Jason an adult, him not being
able to do adult stuff, what better alternative than to have his `dad' as
Jason's best friend!

Since it would be a few hours before Tyler showed up at the beach estate,
Berk suggested they take in some sun and surf.

Highly exclusive, private, a few feet of the beach, even though the high
profile estate, the shoreline belonged to everybody. To keep their privacy
to themselves and others out, a gated brick wall separated the backyard
from the beach area, giving some definition.

"Doesn't make sense," Fletch said as they pass through one of the double
doors of the wrought iron gate."

"What doesn't make sense?" Pieter questions his son.

"This," his finger draws a superficial outline of the wrought iron
perimeter. "This," his hand pats the top of the brick wall, no taller than
his kid-nips, "why they even bother, I don't know!"

Pieter was smiling at both his son and Jason. While he spoke with Fletch,
he was checking out Jason checking out the joggers on the beach. "Sometimes
we don't know why, son," and he reflected on calling Fletch, `son', it
feeling good, "but things happen for a reason and there's no answer."

Bringing up a good point himself, Fletch returns, "Maybe while I'm here
I'll find out why this," he taps the wall again, like patting a dog on the
head, "wall is here." He then runs ahead, yelling, "Hey Jason! Wait for
us!"

Laughing out, loud, Pieter wonders if Jason is upset Fletch has just robbed
him of introducing himself to a jogger!

Standing there, one arm to the ground, Pieter drags the ice chest along.

"Here. I've got it!" Berk exclaims, grabbing the handle on the other
side. "Looks like your help has deserted you." Then a faint, "Oops!" He
stopped for a moment, unlatching his hand from the ice chest. It wasn't at
all a secret, Berk fidgeting with his speedo, making amends when one of his
sacs pops out.

"That happen often?" Pieter asks with a smile.

Being risque, since Pieter's question suggested it, Berk jokes, "Only when
I'm trying to pick up a handsome guy!"

Ending their play on words, thoughts, maybe ideas, Berk reattaches his hand
and they walk towards the crowd of three.

Seeing Berk and his father approaching, Fletch runs back a few feet, saying
the obvious, "Jason's talking to a jogging man." In a low, sneaky tone,
with his hand fanned out and to the side of his mouth, "I think he's gay!"

The two contained their laughter, turning to each other and smiling at
Fletch's assumptions. When Fletch was out of earshot, the two stare again
and burst out in laughter.

Fletch's dad remarks, "Will you look at that... not even a gay man, I mean
boy, and he's got `the gift!'"

Both knew Pieter meant, `gaydar!'

They continued watching, Fletch running to where the waves licked the sand,
veering off course to his right, with intentions of catching up to Jason
and the dude he talked with.

"Hey guys, wait up!" Fletch hailed again, "Wait up guys!"

Turning inwards, towards each other, Jason and the other guy pay attention
to `the runner.'

"Hey guys," Fletch stops dead in tracks and as a marathon runner at the
finish line, bends slightly, placing palms on his thighs and with heavy
breathing, "`Was wondering... can I jog too?"

Outright, the athlete he hasn't even met says, "Do you think you can keep
up?"

It's offered up by Jason, "Fletch, this is Gary."

"Hi Gary," Fletch returned, first looking at Gary in the face, the two
exchanging palm slaps of greeting one another.

Gary turns to Jason to confer about Fletch's running abilities, which is
fine. Because while they conversed Fletch had a chance to check out,
compare with Jason, the straight line of hair which ran down Gary's bod. He
knew about the consequences of being caught in the act, having checked out
Jason's treasure trail numerous times, Jason making remarks every time,
like `Take a picture. It'll last longer!' and stuff like it. Yep, at ten
years old, Fletch had already started on his way, already knee-deep into
`Gay 101'!

"Are you sure you can keep up?" Gary says, looking down upon Fletch.

Breaking his concentration, Fletch replies, "Sure!" As Jason has always
said, he copies, "No problem!"

Of course Jason had already prepped Gary to take it easy and he did. Of
course, with his muscled bod, plus the cardio work, he was in fit shape and
could have run about as fast as a zebra, but he kept speed low key.

The whole way up the beach, when Gary and Jason turned heads away from the
ocean, Fletch did the same. As part of his continuing education, sometimes
without being instructed purposely or like now, on a whim, he slowly
learned how to scope out guys.

He overhears Gary, breathing in like doing a drug, "Oo-oh, nice!"

"Mm-m-m," Jason agrees.

Both keeping their heads swayed towards the two college boys sacked out on
the beach, sunglasses covering their eyes, one with his hands parked behind
his head, showing off dark-haired pits, the other at his sides, they
remained in the position until running past made their necks hurt.

Fletch interjects, "Hey Gary?" he shouts.

"What?" Gary turns his head back around to where Fletch is trailing them.

"Do you like the one on the left or right better?"

The two were whacked out of their gourds!

Slowing like a locomotive, Gary's feet slowly kicked up sand. Laughing
through his embarrassment, even though he had his shades on, it could be
seen, his slightly red face glowing through the tan.

"Fletch?" Jason says, smirking, his crossed arms hiding his pec lines.

"What'd I say?" He innocently tries getting himself off the hook.

However, taking it in stride, Gary says, "Um, I think I'd prefer door
number 2!"

Jokingly, since Gary wasn't punching `him' out for Fletch's comment, he
rules, "You're worse than the kid!"

Up the beach they paused at the pier. Sitting up on pylons, they could
catch some shade while catching their breaths.

With the triangular huddle, Fletch asks, "Gary, can I ask you something?"

"Sure. Ask me anything!"

"Big mistake," Jason says, half humorous, partly serious. He also gave
Fletch the same death stare as when the kid asked about his fuzzy treasure
trail.

First looking to Jason, smiling, then seriously at Fletch, Gary coaxes, "Go
ahead."

Looking at Jason, he says, "Privacy? Remember?"

Okay, so like crossing midstream, turning back, he forgot about asking Gary
how old he was when he noticed his treasure trail coming in and instead,
"How about coming over for lunch?" The reason he detoured to this thought,
hinting, his stomach was beckoning, after the long, long jog.

"Maybe another time," Gary replies, looking to Jason.

Being a good sport about one of their `golden rules', ask a parent before
inviting someone over to the house, a ride in the car or for meals, Jason
sidetracks, "Why not? What better things do you have to do?"

Like playing games, Gary knew he wanted to deepen his friendship with Jason
and whether he felt it or not, Jason the same, perhaps with some fringe
benefits.

Copying Jason, Fletch says, "Yeah, whatcha you got to do better, Gary?"

"I dunno," Gary said, rubbing his rough shadow.

Slipping his hand into Jason's hand, Fletch stood to Jason's side, pulling
him into his web of thought, "Doncha like us Gary?"

Of course, solidifying his response he eyed Jason down and back up, neck to
navel and says as he turns to the one who asked, "Of course I do." He
really should have gotten back to his yacht, needing to address some
business matters, instead accepting, "I forgot my cell phone. If you have a
way I can call some people, I would be more than happy to accept your
invitation.

Fletch jumped for joy, yelling, "Hurray!" He threw his hands up in the air
as if at a Pink concert.

Thinking it, mentally, Jason shotgunned back with a toothy grin to Gary,
`Fuckin' perfect!'

Detaching from Jason, latching onto Gary's hand, Fletch snapped him around
towards the path home.

"I guess we better go!," Gary calls out with no choice in the matter.

Snide remark, Jason says, "I'm right behind you!"

Approaching their rectangle of beach, Fletch calls out, "Hey look! There's
some guys playing volleyball! Maybe they'll let us play!"

In their own individual minds, Gary and Jason could only hope so!

%

Copyright 2011 T. Chase McPhee

`THe FoiLs of FLeTcH VaN DaM' may not be sold, nor made part of any
collection, without prior consent from the author.

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