In Safe Hands - 7. Chapter 7

In Safe Hands
by Riley Jericho

Chapter Seven

“Why can’t I just stay here?” It was already after nine in the morning, and Sam’s whining was unrelenting. “Why do I have to go shopping? For clothes? You always take ages!” The family were meant to be congregating by the door to leave, but was halted by his bursts of rebellion.

“We’re all going Sam,” replied Rose patiently.

Sam crossed his arms, building up to his most rebellious mode. “You can’t make me! I’m staying! We’re meant to be on holiday! Why can't I play in the pool?”

“Sam – there’s going to be nobody here, and you aren’t staying by yourself!” pronounced his father.

“I’m not a kid. Stop treating me like a baby! I bet Elliott would be able to stay!"

“Get your stuff and move it, young man!” Elliott cringed as his Mom raised her voice to the exact pitch that both he and Sam knew was NOT to be messed with. Sam was sailing right to the edge with her. He knew it too, and glaring at her, he moved.

“Just bring your GameBoy, Sam,” their dad placated.

Finally the family made it out front, to the car. The Ortiz’s were already by their own car, waiting. “Sorry,” apologised Rose. “Kids!”

“Can I go in with Miguel?” Elliott asked.

He didn't think it would make difference to him and he was right as his dad shrugged. “I don’t see why not," he replied.

“I wanna go with Miguel!" Sam screeched. “He’s my friend too!” He was not doing well on this holiday. He usually had plenty of friends to entertain him, but now, nothing. It just wasn’t fair!

“Sam, you’re fine where you are,” muttered Rose tiredly.

She'd been in a good mood first thing and he could tell his mum was beginning to relax on holiday at last. But Sam could be a pain.

“I don’t mind,” he offered Elliott, determined not to let Sam spoil the day for the rest of them, if he could help it. Sam eyed him suspiciously, looking for the catch. “As long as it’s alright with Senor Ortiz, that is,” Elliott added.

“Well, are you coming or not?” asked Miguel, holding the rear door for Sam.

As Sam scrambled in, already in non-stop chat mode, Rose mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ to her eldest son. The three boys bundled into the back seat where, unwilling to budge over, Sam stole the middle. Miguel had to go around the other side to get in.

Miguel turned to Sam once they’d buckled in. “Do you like shopping, Sam?”

"Well..." Sam considered the question for a moment. "Do you?"

“Actually I do.”

“Me to!” Sam agreed, quite brazenly.

Lying git! Elliott silently ground his teeth. Miguel just smiled and I t looked like he wasn't taken in much either!

Finally, all three fell out of the rather sweaty and cramped back seat and onto the melting heat of the car park. Elliot looked across to a huge shopping centre that was located just outside of Malaga. It had taken nearly forty-five minutes to get there and that was at Senor Ortiz speed, and in a car where winding down the windows constituted the only air-conditioning!

The two families gathered inside the expansive foyer, within the relief of the air-conditioning, and made plans. On the agenda were clothes, food and a video. A rough timeline was established.

“Manny and I have a few other things to attend to whilst we’re here in the city." Isabella looked at her watch. "Then, we’ll go to the supermarket and pick up the food and meet you back here. How long do you think you’ll need, Rosa?”

“An hour?” Rose hazarded.

“An hour?" Isabella chuckled. "Make it two, my dear. Trust me on this. When you see the quality and value in this place, one hour won’t be enough! Miguel, are you be happy to stay with Elliott?”

“Yes Mama." Miguel rolled his eyes. "I’ll be fine.”

"Mom, can I look for my own clothes this time?” solicited Elliott as they started walking down the aisles. “I know what I need."

He watched her theatrically touch her forehead with the back of her hand. “I feel faint,” she declared, swooning against his dad. ”Elliott wants to go shopping for clothes!” She cast her eyes across the store. And he knew she could already going to have her hands full shopping for herself and their dad, let alone Natty, and Sam. Every aisle offered mountains of clothing, for every age, size and taste under the sun. This place was incredible!

His dad played along. “Quickly, Miguel - we need to call the emergency services!” His eyes gleamed with amusement as he wafted her with a brochure he’d picked up by the shopping center entrance.

His mom must have got her good mood back! Elliott shook his head in disbelief, folded his arms and waited. “Sure sweetheart,” she snickered, making a miraculous recovery. “Go ahead and find a few things if you want. I can always add to it if needed."

He realised it was the best offer he would probably get, and he and Miguel headed off to commandeer a cart.

‘Where are YOU going?” Sam demanded, standing up in the shopping cart he’d already climbed into.

“To buy clothes,” replied Elliott. “What do you think?”

“You’re weird!” Sam grunted and settled back with his GameBoy, for a long morning of boredom.

“Okay, so where do you want to start?” Surprisingly enthusiastic, Miguel pushed their cart in the direction of the men’s, teens and boys clothes section.

“I don’t know. I’ve never really shopped like this before. A bit of everything, I guess."

“Okay.” Miguel looked thoughtful. “Why don’t we have a quick look round to get an idea of what there is and what you want, and then go from there?”

“Fair enough. I’m in your hands, Miguel Ortiz!” he declared with a flourish. “Do your worst!”

The place was enormous by anyone’s standard. Malaga had woken up, and the store was humming with people bustling back and forth pushing overloaded carts. Clothing, of all kinds, was everywhere; on racks, shelves, mini islands, hanging off display walls or piled high on tables in ‘stack ‘em high, sell ‘em cheap’ bundles. For the first five or ten minutes, they walked up and down the aisles as Elliott tried to get some ideas of what he wanted. Then they started in on the shirts in earnest.

Twenty minutes later, Elliott’s mom called them from the end of the aisle they were in. “Elliott, how’s it going?” She was slightly breathless and, between her and his dad, had two carts between them. They were already filling them up with clothing, piled around two siblings – one in each cart. His own cart, though it had some good finds, was sparse in comparison.

“We got a few things, Mom.”

She gave his finds a quick professional evaluation, and was pleasantly surprised. “Nice!” Lifting up one of the soft knit shirts that Miguel had found, she held it against her son. “But you need quite a bit more. Your dad and I have decided that the prices here are so good here, we’re going to try to kit everyone out as much as possible. At least you kids. We can ship it by DHL.”

That we don't need to pay for, she didn't have to add. Even Elliott knew that about that perk! A generous transition allowance was another of the company perks, for those being frequently moved. She usually used it to kit out the family wardrobes for the next country.

“Oh…fine,” he replied. So, he could get more stuff. Great! What was the catch?

“I’m going to give you a list.”

“A list?” That didn’t sound so good.

“Yes sweetheart. You need to find the following…” She took pen and paper from her bag and started writing. “Good shirts, with collars, and full length trousers to start with. At least 4 pairs of trousers. Not jeans.”

“Mom!”

“If you plan to go to school, then it’s non-negotioable."

"School?" Elliott's mouth dropped open and he stared at his mom, in surprise. “I'm going to school?"

"If that's what you want," she smiled. What came next was priceless.

"YES!" Elliott shouted, to the bemusement of all in earshot. "I'M GOING TO SCHOOL!" He literally danced a jig!

“Oh sorry!” Grinning, his mom apologised to a fellow shopper who was trying to squeeze past the group. They pulled their carts over to one side and Elliott stopped dancing.

"Mom, I wanna go to school too," badgered Sam. Whether this was actually true was irrelevant. Just then, nobody was listening.

"Now can we get back to the list?" she pleaded at last. She fretted and looked at her watch. "Gosh, I wonder if we should just come back another day,"

In this, both Elliott and Sam were agreed. "NO, it’ll be fine - just give me a list!" Elliott said hurriedly.

Quickly she went through it.

"And plenty of pairs of socks and underpants," she finished off, adding those items to the bottom.

"Oh, right..."

"Crap - how are we going to do all this?" muttered Elliott after the others had rushed off in a whirlwind, leaving him and Miguel with a cart and a scrap of paper.

"It's fine. We can do it.” Miguel took the list and scanned through it. “Especially if you take my advice and not spend ages arguing over the style and colours!"

"Okay - at least Mom seemed to like what we already had," agreed Elliott. He took the paper back from Miguel and checked his watch. They would get what they could in the time they had.

Moving back into gear, they went back to the shirts, and hard-core shopping began in earnest. Miguel seemed to know exactly the kind of things they were looking for. Even though time was tight, he insisted that Elliott try on anything they spotted. Once Elliott had clarified he was dressing for living back in the moderately hot climate of Atlanta and not rainy UK, they went though all kinds of styles of shirts, shorts and trousers. He even picked out a trendy waistcoat!

Even though it was a whirlwind, it was a journey of discovery for Elliott, as he began to 'get it' with colours. Get the underlying colours right and everything else usually just slipped into place. A bit like life really he realised when, many months later, he began to look back at those formative days in Spain.

As they picked things from the shelves, Miguel also showed him how to mix and match as they went along, identifying things that would really work well together. Sometimes it would be because the colours were similar, sometimes because of contrast. White worked well with him, but many of the colours were pastels and soft warm shades; creams or reds. But not all. Miguel tried unepected things that Elliott would never have dreamed of. Lilac, and even emerald green, just seemed to work!

There were stronger shades too—like the ones Miguel wore—but those were added carefully to compliment, and add splashes of colour without being overwhelming. It wasn't long before it looked like they might need a second cart.

"I know it's not on the list, but I’d really like some speedos." Elliott slowed, and backed up his laden cart to the end of the sports aisle, which they'd just past. "Ones like yours."

Trundling through racks of Bermuda shorts and swimming trunks, he lifted out a pair of speedos from a display full of them. "Here, what about these? They're the right size." They were black, and seemed to be exactly like Miguel's. He'd been angling this direction for the last hour, wanting to get something like this!

Miguel took them to feel their texture and check their size, stretching and pulling at them, before rejecting and returning then to the rack. "No - don't think so," he replied briefly, beginning to search an adjacent rack.

"Why not?” muttered Elliott. “What's wrong with them?" A felt a tinge disappointed as he took them off the rack again, and frowned. "Isn't it worth at least trying them?" So far, they had tried everything that had been picked out. Shirts, shorts, trousers, the lot! Miguel had been adament. You can't buy something, if you don't know how it fits, he'd argued - and I doubt you'll return here to bring them back to exchange!

It was a reasonable point.

Miguel Ortiz studied his friend with interest. "Sure. If you want" he placated, noting the slight stubborn trait with bemusement. Elliott had crossed his arms and quite reminded him of Rose, his mama. Quite a feisty lady! His mouth curled up at the corners.

"What?" grumbled Elliott.

"Oh, nothing... Listen, you can try them, but I think these will suit your color a lot better." He lifted the similar pair of white ones that he’d been looking at, off a different rack. The texture was good, and made the black ones feel like the cheap acrylic they were.

Elliott frowned again. "White?"

Still stubbornly holding onto his own prize, Elliott took the swimwear. The first thing he seemed to notice was the well-known brand logo on them. The second: he spotted the price, which was quite a few Euros more expensive. "I dunno,” he said. “I could get two of these, for those."

"So you'd have two pairs that probably don't fit rather than one pair that did?" returned Miguel, with impeccable logic. He'd only added the word 'probably' to be nice, already knowing the black ones would look crap. Still, the white ones might too. They were a bit of an unknown quantity, even to him. He‘d spotted them lost amongst the rail that held the stuff few people wanted - wedged alongside the mega-small and the embarrassingly humungous!

It had been the colour that had caught his attention and he’d been surprised to find that the size was right. They were probably orphans, dumped there from the boys section, where they would have been snatched up, ages ago, if displayed properly.

But would they work for Elliot? There would be no way to tell without trying them on. "Take them both to try," he suggested and, pushing the laden cart, followed Elliott towards the nearest changing area.

"For goodness sake come on in," pleaded Elliott, standing by the lockable door. "I'm not wandering the store in speedos looking for you!"

Elliott had learned fast, and trusted Miguel’s judgment, though the white speedos were a bit unexpected. Up til now, each time he'd stepped into one of the small changing cubicles, Miguel had waited patiently outside. That was fine yet, on the other hand, time was tight and maybe it wasn't THAT necessary?

As they both squeezed into the rather cozy cubicle, he slipped off his shoes, opened the buttons on his khaki shorts and quickly pushed them off.

The sign had said that you weren't really supposed to try on the swimwear except over your boxers, but that was stupid, Elliott decided. It wasn’t like wearing underwear that nobody would see! These HAD to look right and even HE knew that there was no way he was leaving the shop, without making sure!

He was also on a confidant streak that morning. The days with Migel were affecting him. As the Spaniard seemed to have no qualms in showing his privates, then Elliott decided it was okay to be a tad careless too. He dropped his grey boxers and stepped out of them.

Miguel watched him. There really wasn’t anywhere else to look in the small space, so he didn’t bother trying. His friend grinned amiably. “I think old Mrs Lopez had a narrow escape. I don’t think her dog would have found much to chew on!”

“In your dreams!” retorted Elliott, laughing. Hell, had he just done that? He peered briefly at his manhood. It felt a liitle warm in the cubicle, though he tried to stay business-like, as he studied himself. In fact, having seen Miguel in exactly this state, he knew that, other than his own small bush being light brown, they were pretty well matched.

“Give me those things,’ he sniggered, snatching the black pair from Miguel and pulled them on.

Lifting his t-shirt out of the way, he didn't even have to study himself in the mirror to know that Miguel had been right. They were uninspiring; in fact an old tea-towel would have looked and felt better! The speedos were saggy, too tight at the waist and so loose around his butt and legs that there was room to drive a London bus, right up into his crotch! He turned at different angles before finally admitting defeat.

“Okay, I admit it – you were right. They’re crap. Let’s try yours then.”

He slipped the black ones off and kicked them away and waited, mostly naked once more, holding out his hand for the white pair.

Miguel seemed to be elsewhere!

“Come on – hand them over,” Elliott complained, pulling down on his t-shirt surrupticiously.

“Oh – do you mean these?” sniggered Miguel, coming out of his trance and waving the speedos slightly out of reach. Still, when Elliott reached to grab for them, he let him take them and draw them on.

For long moments, there was complete silence.

“Oh – wow!” Elliott murmured. “They’re not actually white are they?”

The material had seemed to be white before, but now against his skin, it had adapted somehow. Maybe it was the light in cubicle, but the trunks had taken on a much more subtle cream colour. He pulled up the t-shirt to get the full impression.

The colour wasn’t the only thing going for them!

“How do they feel?” put in Miguel.

“They feel great!" Elliott admitted. In fact they felt part of him, rather than an item of clothing he was wearing, and the fit was so good. If he shut his eyes, he might not even realise they were there!

He could hardly believe his luck. "What do you think?” His voice was breathless.

* * *

Trapped in the close confines of the changing room, Miguel tried to keep his chin from hitting the floor. Damn, they look amazing, he mused. Without really considering the consequences, he reached out and touched Elliott. Taking hold of the material in his fingers, he started checking the fit – just as he would, if they were his own.

“Just turn around,” he murmured. As Elliott turned to face the wall, he slid his fingers around the waistband of the speedos, taking time to get a sense of their shape and give. Yep – not too tight. “You probably can’t see, but they look really great at the back. What about round here?” he added, stepping close again and running his fingers under the leg bands of the beautifully soft, pliant cloth. His fingers tracing down around Elliott’s bum and right underneath.

He pulled at the material. It still had plenty of give in it, but fit snuggly around his cheeks. The waistband covered his crack just nicely and looked quite rakish! Tensing the fabric, he traced back along the edges and back over Elliott's hips, around to the front. The fit was faultless.

There was no other way to describe it. They were scorching hot!

“Just spin around a bit,” he encouraged. “I don’t know what you think, but we could hunt all week and you won’t find ANYTHING better than this! Honestly, they’re even better than mine!”

“Oh…errr…yep, they look great, “ agreed Elliott, though his voice sounded a little strangled. Despite the request, he hadn’t turned.

Miguel looked up from admiring the backside. “Are you going to buy them then?”

“Yep, definitely." Elliott muttered shortly. “Can you pass me my shorts?” Still turned away. He held out a hand behind himself.

“You plan to lie on the check-out belt then?” sniggered Miguel.

“What?”

“How else are you going to pay for them? It might be quite funny though – putting you under the scanner and hearing you beep!”

The tips of Elliott’s ears and the back of his neck burned and suddenly Miguel got it. Even though Elliott was facing away, he glanced into the mirror on the side wall and could see him covering his crotch, inadequately hiding a significant boner.

Elliott lifted his eyes towards the mirror too, caught Miguel’s stare and could see where it was directed.

“Shit,” Elliott coughed in embarasment. In the small cubicle there was nowhere to hide, and his sense of humiliation deepened. “I’m really sorry. I don’t know what happened. I must need a pee or something.” As far as explations went, it was horribly inadequate!

Miguel successfully managed to avoid bursting out laughing and, for Elliott, it would have probably been the worst thing he could ever have done. Instead, he thought fast.

What the hell was he meant to do with this?

He’d decided, the previous day, not to push Elliott in any way. They were just good friends. But, how could anyone plan for THIS? In fact, all day, he'd gone out of his way to AVOID joining Elli in the changing cubicles. It had been for his own protection as much as anything.

He made up his mind fast. Seeing Elli cowering in the corner freaked and humiliated over a silly boner was not on. “Oh, I see.” He shrugged easily and kept his voice offhand. “You’ve got a boner! So what? I get them all the time, especially in speedos. It can be a right pain!”

“Kind of,” Elliott muttered, still not turning. “Can you pass me my boxers?”

Miguel looked around, searching.

“You’re standing on them!”

“Oh!” Sheepishly Miguel picked them up and Elliott did a quick change before daring to turn around. The boxers did little to hide the impact of his erection as he reached for his shorts.

“Elli, you should learn to tuck it under,” offered Miguel. “I do it all the time – particularly in speedos, otherwise it’s always popping up - especially at the beach!”

Elliott looked at him curiously as he fumbled with his shorts. “What do you mean, ‘tuck it under’?”

Without even missing a step, Miguel did what was quite natural to him and Elliott’s eyes widened in surprise as Miguel first pushed down his own shorts revealing sleek dark briefs - the same type he always wore, though these were a deep shade of spicy red. Then, without flinching, he stuck his hand down the front.

“When it sticks up – and let’s be honest, it’s going to,” he pronounced frankly, “push it underneath.”

He explained this as calmly as if he had been ordering coke and fries, before taking his own dick, which was half hard, twisted it and tucked it deep underneath, wedging it behind his balls and between his legs.

“BLOODY HELL!” gasped Elliott in surprise as the majority of Miguel's tackle disappeared. “Shit, Miguel – you look like a eunuch!” He couldn’t help himself and sniggered.

“Maybe,” Miguel admitted, grinning, “but before you ridicule, try it. It works!”

He pulled the briefs snuggly back into place and proved it, patting around his now empty crotch. “Anyway,” he added as an afterthought, “eunuchs don’t have any balls. Mine are still there!”

* * *

Elliott shook his head in bemusement. “You’re unbelievable!” And you’ve certainly got balls, to pull a stunt like that. How did he get away with it so easily?

When he’d been trying on the black trunks, he’d become aware of the familiar signs stirring his groin. He'd moved on to the white ones quickly, hoping to keep it all at bay until they were done, but to no avail. With Miguel standing up close and adjusting the damn things on him, exactly the same had happened as had occurred the previous day, on the balcony. Once it had started, it wouldn’t stop!

He realised it was only his body doing what he'd trained it to do – responding to what it liked – but he as hell couldn’t tell Miguel that! He didn’t really even understand it himself.

The sensible thing to do now would be to get dressed, shrug it off, pretend it never happened and get back to shopping. He already had his shorts back in place, but not yet fully not done up.

But he paused.

Miguel seemed to have this way of turning things around, he sighed. It’s only just to find out if it’s true, he told himself as he took a little risk and slipped his hand down the front of his own boxers.

‘Life Learning’, his mom liked to call it. Taking everyday things around you and making a lesson out of it. This had to count for something like that didn’t it? Perhaps he could have checked it all out later at home, alone, but… Hell, Miguel had done it, so why shouldn’t he?

He pushed his hand down the front and under the cover of his grey boxers took hold of his rigid tube. Experimentally, he tried to push it under too, as Miguel had – and grimaced when nothing would budge.

“It’s probably a bit late now,” said Miguel eyeing what, to anyone, was totally spectacular!

“What do you mean ‘a bit late’? I thought you…” began Elliott feeling uncomfortable again.

“No, I mean, once it’s hard, it won’t go under.”

Elliott’s eyes widened as, showing no shame, Miguel pulled down the front of his spicy red briefs out again. Then those eyes nearly popped out of his head as Miguel retrieved his member, flipping it out from between his legs.

Once Miguel had released himself, in the circumstances and his current state of mind, he started filling out immediately. Half hidden by his underwear, he rubbed it a bit to, just to speed things up. Within a dozen heartbeats, it seemed it was as stiff as it got!

“The thing is, Elli,” he said frankly. “Once it’s hard, you can’t bend it any more than it is – at least I never can,” He pushed at his steely erection to prove the point.

Somewhat flustered by such a rampant display, Elliott didn’t stop to consider the question of WHY it was actually there. All he could think about was how the hell did he get into a situation like this? All kinds of conflicting arguments crashed through his mind, but he pushed them all away. What it came down to was he trusted Miguel – and so he just did it.

Pushing down his shorts and partly lowering his boxers again, he let his tensile boner spring out past the waistband. Holding his underwear out of the way with one hand, the other took hold of his shaft and again tried to push it down underneath - just as Miguel had done. It was true, there was no way it was moving. As he pushed and pulled at the shaft, the foreskin of his glistening, pink glans rolled fully back, uncovering him.

* * *

Miguel mouth dropped. Holy Mother of God, he groaned silently as he stared. His own dick strained and he discovered he was wrong when he thought it had been as hard as it was going to get!

Elliott smiled sheepishly as he pulled his boxers into place again. “God - I thought it was just me!”

Miguel managed to avoid saying something he might have regretted, and looked quizzical.

“Well…I…I thought there was something wrong with mine,” Elliott confessed.

“What’s wrong with it?” It looked incredible to him!

“WeII - I mean it bends like this when…you know…I just thought that maybe I’d done something to it…”

* * *

Genetics had played its cards in a predictable way. Elliott Carter was, had he known it, endowed with an exact, if slightly smaller, replica of his father’s outturned, cobra-like penis. It stood tall and proud and, even through the grey cotton, stared at Miguel, who stared back, mesmerized!

“Shit – it’s better than mine,” Miguel stuttered.

Elliott didn’t seem to notice as he continued to trace his unusual curve through the front of his boxers, comparing it to Miguel’s. "It's not really something you can ask ya mom about though, is it,”" he sniggered. Now it was all out in the open, so to speak, he had a gazillion questions. And who better to ask than Miguel. “So does yours always bend to the left like that?” He pointed curiously to the obvious, hiding under the spicy red.

"Oh...errr...I'm afraid so,” laughed Miguel, getting his poise back. “I always used to think it was because of too much jerking, but YOU'D have to be some kind of gymnast if that were true!” He giggled, nodding towards the cobra. “Anyway,” he added. “Some guys have straight ones, but most tend to be a bit bent.”

“You’ve seen other kid’s dicks?” gasped Elliott in surprise.

“Elliott Carter – you’ve had such a sheltered upbringing! I guess it’s because you’ve never been to a proper school. Of course I’ve seen other kids dicks. You can’t help it! Everyone has to shower after sports. You’re telling me you haven’t?”

Elliott shook his head and grimaced. “Apart from Sam, that is,” he confirmed. Miguel was right; maybe going to school was going to be a bit of a shock. He’d never shown his dick to ANYONE outside his family before.

There was a noise as the door to the adjacent cubicle was opened and someone entered. The boys decided it was better to take the conversation elsewhere. Zipping up at last and pulling his shoes on, Elliott collected the two pairs of speedos and they returned to their shopping cart.

“Am I normal then?” he asked as they wheeled back towards the sports aisle to return the unwanted black ones – though Miguel would have been happy just to dump them on any nearby shelf.

“You? Normal? Depends what you mean,” Miguel sniggered. “What’s normal anyway?”

“You know – down there,” persisted Elliott.

“Oh - pretty much,” Miguel sighed, knowing that it wasn’t just to do with what you had. It was what you did with it, that many people decided defined you as normal, or not.