A Cold Spell - 2. A Cold Spell

The next day passed uneventfully for Brad and Jack. Justin and Jack had not really said much else to one another yet about what had happened the day before. Eric still had not mentioned what he had seen the night before to Justin or anyone else yet, either.

The housekeeper who took care of the guest rooms in the inn for Brad and Jack had finished her work quickly, since only one room had been rented the night before, but on this night three rooms were occupied. At 6:30 that evening, while Jack was putting the finishing touches on dinner in the kitchen, Brad popped into the spacious downstairs back sunroom which served as a large den and lounge space for the guests, and let the guests know that he and Jack were going to be entertaining friends privately over in the formal dining room on the other side of the rambling old house, but to just let him know if they needed anything, and that otherwise he would probably see them in the morning sometime.

Since Brad and Jack had owned it, the "breakfast" part of the "bed and breakfast" had been handled each morning there were guests by Mrs. Mosely, a kindly widow who was a good friend of Miz Vivian's. This spared the guys from either having to cook breakfast and tend to guests in the morning hours when Jack was busy heading off to the station, and Brad was getting ready to open the adjacent Mercantile. As for dinner, with all the cute restaurants that had opened during the resurgence of downtown Pleasant View in the last several years, most guests preferred to eat out while staying at the inn anyway. In fact, on that particular night the West Virginia couple had already left for dinner, and the one solo elderly lady traveler and the other younger couple who were in the sunroom all said they were about to go out too.

Having taken care of that, by 7:00 Brad and Jack were sitting down to dinner with Justin and Eric, and Miz Vivian and her husband Hank.

"It is so good to see y'all again," Miz Vivian cooed. She was dressed in a strapless, backless, zebra striped dress that accentuated her still-impressive bosom, even if it was definitely pressing the season a bit, although it had been a warm spring day. Over the top, age inappropriate attire was one of the many charms of the unimitiable Miz Vivian Arnow Anderson, though, and she had always reminded Brad of an odd cross between Blanche Devereaux from The Golden Girls, and the type of sharp tongued, quick witted redheads that Eve Arden had often played in the old movies. Her much more demure and slightly older husband, retired attorney Hank Anderson, chimed in that he, too, was glad to see Brad, Jack and their friends again.

"We had the most wonderful time down home in Georgia," Miz Vivian related. She and Hank had just returned from a long vacation in Miz Vivian's native Vidalia, Georgia, where her family owned the ancestral plantation on which she had grown up. She and Hank lived just outside of Pleasant View in Hank's family's own sprawling country estate. When the pair had married just before Brad and Jack did so, they knew that between them they had more than enough money to last the rest of their golden years, and this along with their genuine, parent-like fondness for the guys was what had led them to give Brad and Jack the inn at that time. Of course Miz Vivian was still a business partner in the bottled water company with them.

As Miz Vivian was rambling on a bit about their trip, Brad was gazing across the table and Justin and Eric. Justin was wearing a grape-colored button-down shirt, but his hard, muscled upper body was still very evident. And Brad was thinking how much fun it would be to run his tongue into that sexy cleft chin. Those dark eyes and buzzed brown hair, and damn, that bit of chest fur on display at the top of Justin's shirt.

Justin was also checking Brad out. He looked so good in that light blue polo that perfectly matched his eyes, Justin thought. And those sexy black-rimmed hipster glasses he was wearing just suited Brad. Like Eric, Brad was a chubby guy but carried it well. Brad, however, was tall, whereas Eric was sort of short. At any rate, Justin was thinking about how much he would like to kiss Brad's lips and then work his way down.

Meanwhile, Jack was having similar thoughts about both Eric and Justin, as they both were thinking how much they would love to have the furry, beefy, masculine police chief fuck the hell out of them, and then return the favor. He looked so hot in his pale green button-down shirt, his black hair slicked back smoothly and dark blue eyes twinkling in the lights of the candles on the table - Miz Vivian always said it just was not a real dinner party if you didn't have candles, so they did.

And like his husband, Eric was gazing with pure lust at both Brad and Jack, imagining the things they could do to him - hell, sometime right there on top of that big antique oak dinner table if they got the chance.

The way the four of them were checking each other out so lustily over the dinner table reminded him of the "Love and All the Trimmings" sequence in that old Streisand flick On a Clear Day You Can See Forever, Brad was thinking to himself in amusement.

"Eric, Brad tells me you are still doing just a wonderful job running the water plant for us," Miz Vivian drawled.

"Thank you, Miz Vivian, and I'm still very grateful for the job," Eric replied sincerely. The job as plant manager had come at a very good time two years before, shortly after Eric had lost his job in accounting at the local auto parts plant when it had shut down.

"So did y'all HEAR what happened down by the lake last night?" Miz Vivian then asked with excitement.

"Oh Lord," Jack asked, "So did Barney or Daddy tell you about that?"

"What?" Miz Vivian asked. "No, I haven't seen either of them today. No, I heard all about it from Flora Mae Tate this morning down at the beauty shop." Flora Mae was a neighbor of Justin and Eric's on the lake road, and was also the aunt of their twinky younger friend Blake. Miz Vivian continued, "Well, I told her that she should have called you, Jack, but she said she thought people would just think she was going crazy in her old age - I had to remind her that she and I are NOT old, mind you - but anyway."

"Umm, what exactly did she say happened down there last night?" Jack asked cautiously.

"Well," Miz Vivian drawled excitedly, "She said she was letting that cute little poodle of hers out to go wee-wee about midnight last night, when she saw this horrible dark winged, red-eyed thing flying right over the lake towards them! Said it like to have scared her to death, and that she grabbed little Poopsie up, ran in the house, locked the door, and hid under the covers until she finally fell asleep. She said she wished Blake and Jody weren’t away on their honeymoon or else she would have called them to come right over. And Peggy Ann down there at the Kurl Up and Dye Beauty Shop heard her telling me that and told her she had dyed that hair one too many times and lost her marbles, but Flora Mae swears to Gawd the whole thing is true."

Jack then explained what had happened to his dad and Barney slightly earlier the night before, also down by Pleasant View Lake. He added that the officer sent out to investigate hadn't seen a thing and that no planes had been reported missing.

"Well, Flora Mae said it flew right over them as her and Poopsie ran like hell towards the house, and she got a pretty good look at the thing. Said it looked more like a muscular man with wings than any plane anyway," Miz Vivian said. "Can you imagine? I mean I love muscular men, but sure as hell not ones with wings and nothin' but a pair of big ol' scary red eyes where their handsome face oughta be, thank you very much."

"Well, I can definitely vouch for Flora Mae not being nuts, that is unless we both are," Eric spoke up, and everyone turned to look at him curiously.

He then filled his five friends sitting around the beautiful old antique dinner table in on what he had seen from his and Justin's living room window at about the same time the night before that Flora Mae and Poopsie had apparently also seen it much closer-up from outside her nearby house.

"Honey, why in the world didn't you wake me up?" Justin asked with concern.

"Well, it was gone, it flew off on the other side of that mountain across the lake while I was watching, and besides I thought you would think I was batshit crazy," Eric explained sheepishly.

"Well, it does sound a lot like that Mothman stuff you are so interested in," Justin admitted. "But if Barney, Billy Jack, and Flora Mae all saw it last night too, then obviously there was SOMETHING flying around out there."

The ever level-headed Hank Anderson had been taking all of this in, and offered an idea. "You all know bird watching is one of my hobbies. A sand hill crane can actually look a good bit like what they all saw last night."

"No, don't go there, with all due respect, Mr. Anderson," Eric disagreed. "That sand hill crane theory was just what they tried to say was going on in Point Pleasant, West Virginia back in the '60's, but none of the witnesses then agreed, and that was definitely not what I saw last night, either."

Brad mentioned that by coincidence a couple from Point Pleasant, West Virginia was currently staying in the inn. They all discussed the matter further, and agreed that it was definitely mysterious. The conversation moved on to other things, and the pleasant dinner was soon over. The group all adjourned into the formal parlor for coffee afterwards, and after a bit more conversation, Miz Vivian yawned and stretched and pronounced that it was about time for her and Hank to be heading home. Goodbyes were said all around, but Eric said he thought he and Justin might stay just a little longer, much to the delight of Brad and Jack.

The two couples went back into the parlor and sat down again after seeing Miz Vivian and Hank off in the foyer.

"I'm glad you wanted to stay longer," Brad said to Justin and Eric. "Jack and I wanted to talk to you tonight." With that Brad got up and shut the doors to the parlor and locked them, to ensure privacy from any guests who might be wandering around.

"Must be serious," Justin said with a smile, hoping he knew what they wanted to talk about.

"It is," Jack said. "I filled Bradley in on what happened between you and I in the locker room yesterday, Just'."

"I'm sorry again about that, Jack," Justin said earnestly. "I should not have grabbed you like that."

"No, you shouldn't have," Brad spoke up.

"Sorry, Brad," Justin said, "you're right, I shouldn't have."

"Don't get me wrong," Brad added, smiling now. "I am not happy that you did that but I understand why you did - just before you thought." Justin nodded in agreement, and then Brad went on. "But Jack and I talked about it, and that is why we wanted to talk to you tonight. And, we think that if you guys are up for it, we would like to pursue starting to play around with you guys some. See where it leads."

"That is great," Eric said with a smile as Justin nodded in agreement, smiling too. "Justin and I have talked about it too, and we think we could all have some really hot times and get even closer as friends, too."

"So do I," Jack agreed.

"You guys have heard us talk about how hot it was when we played exclusively with Bubba and James before they moved," Justin added. "We have missed that, and you guys are the only friends we have who we feel attracted to enough and trust enough to maybe get to that point with again."

"Same here," Brad said, and Jack agreed.

"Let's try to set up a time when we can just see what happens and where we can go with it," Jack suggested.

"No time like the present," Justin suggested with an evil grin.

"Not with guests in the inn - I have a feeling we won't be the quietest foursome if this goes like I think it will," Brad said, grinning.

"I was just kidding," Justin said, "But you are right about that. Here isn't the greatest place anyway - I don't see how you guys ever manage to fuck without Nanny and Poppy tourist overhearing."

Jack laughed, "Good thing about a big ass old house. We're way at the end of one wing of the second floor, and the six guest rooms we rent out are on the other side. But, you're right, I think we could be a lot more flexible at your all's place."

"Jack, I can't wait to show you how flexible I can be, buddy," Justin said with an evil smirk.

"You are bad," Jack said, laughing.

"How about Saturday night then?" Eric asked.

"Sure, seven o'clock work for you guys?" Brad asked.

"Yeah, that'll be great," Justin agreed. "If this cold ass weather is gone by then, we'll have a cookout first before we see what all else we want to get up to."

"Sounds good," Jack agreed.

The unexpected spell of cold weather to which Justin was referring had moved in rather suddenly, just since they had dinner. When seeing Miz Vivian and Hank off a little while before, they were all surprised at how the temperature had plummeted while they were eating. Hank had to loan Miz Vivian his blazer to drape over her scant dress as they dashed to their Lincoln parked out front.

Justin and Eric exchanged hugs with Brad and Jack as they left to go home, and everyone noticed that everyone else was more than a little aroused. Saturday night was sure going to be a memorable one for the two couples.

While the dinner party had been going on at the inn, Ronnie had been staked out in the same place by the lake as the night before. There was no flight that night, however. Finally at around the same time Eric and Justin had left the inn, Ronnie decided that he had done enough of this for one night. It was time to head back to that ratty apartment they had gotten him on the other side of Pleasant View and get some sleep.

His aching back reminded him that his current one was one of the gawdawfullest cover jobs they had ever assigned him to – never mind if he did think he looked pretty damn good in those brown uniforms. He started the car and the radio came on to Mix 94.5 up in Rosemont, a pleasant old/new pop station he had taken a liking to since coming to Kentucky.

The sexy velvet voice of Chris Isaak out of the speakers, as the station was playing the singer’s signature tune “Wicked Game,” which had been a big hit back in the early 1990s. At this Ronnie chuckled to himself and began to softly sing along, as he started driving down the lake road back toward town. Ok, so he had to admit that he did look a lot like the guy, even if Isaak was about fifteen years older than Ronnie. Ronnie just hoped he still looked that good when he did get to his late fifties, as Isaak was now.

The resemblance, Ronnie remembered, had been the source of one too many jokes from other agents back when he first had joined the FBI. Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me was playing in all the theaters back then, with Isaak was playing FBI agent Chet Desmond. Whatever name they gave him after he was done being “Ronnie,” he damn sure would make sure it wouldn’t ever be “Chet.” He had heard way too much of that in those jokes back then. All of that, and his time as an FBI agent in general, for that matter, seemed so long ago now though, and frankly so – was innocent the right word?

At any rate, those naïve guys who were still with the Bureau thought they were tough shit - just like he used to - but actually they just simply had no idea what really went on in the shadows. That much Ronnie had come to be sure of. Without knowing who lived there, Ronnie was soon passing by Eric and Justin's house as he drove back to town. The female DJ on the radio cooed that this was, "a Mix 94.5 Classic Double Play," and soon Chris Isaak was singing, "Somebody's Cryin'.”

Again Ronnie sang along with his doppelganger, but he was thinking when the hell did the early '90s become "Classic"? God he was getting old. Meanwhile, inside the Mid-Century Modern house he was driving past, with its huge glass windows overlooking the lake, which Ronnie thought made it look a lot like the one that had been perched on that cliff in North By Northwest, Eric and Justin had just gone to bed.

Justin smiled and wrapped his arms around Eric and pulled him close as he kissed him. Eric responded and kissed Justin hard as both of their dicks began to grow. Eric was always up for making love with his man, even if he had thought that after last night's great sex they might be just turning off the lights and going to bed tonight. But then they both had gotten pretty horny earlier thinking about their upcoming evening with Brad and Jack, though.

Eric Jamison was five foot, eight inches tall with a typical furry cub type of body and a nice six inch cock which was rock hard at the moment. His dark eyes, behind wire-rimmed glasses all day, were now gazing into Justin’s, the glasses having been laid aside on the nightstand before he got back into bed. Justin loved his geeky little bearcub, and as hot as it was pounding him the night before on the deck, what he really loved lately was to get fucked by him. He soon was lifting his legs to Eric’s shoulders.

“Fuck me, baby,” Justin said lustily, gazing up at Eric in a way that made Eric’s already rock hard cock throb even more as he quickly grabbed the lube front the nightstand, greased up and entered his tall, handsome muscular cop man.

“Uhh!” Justin exclaimed in pleasure, as Eric’s cock hit bottom and began to slowly fuck in and out of Justin’s tight ass. “Harder!”

Eric obliged, and soon was full-throttle pounding his hot man. His hands were reaching down and kneading and pinching Justin’s muscular, fur covered chest and nipples as he fucked him so hard.

“Oh-UH!” Eric grunted, “FUCK that ass is so good, baby!”

“Ah-UH! Uh! FUCK ME!!!” Justin groaned, loving how his man’s cock was filling inside of him.

Soon they had rolled around, Eric’s cock never leaving Justin’s hungry ass, so that Justin was now astride his hot bearcub and riding the hell out of that hard cock.

“Oh GOD! FUCK!!!” Eric groaned, loving how Justin’s ass was feeling as it bounced up and down again and again on his throbbing member.

They were both sweating now, in spite of the chill that had crept into the house, as a cold snap had moved in and the temperatures had plummeted since dark. Eric thrust up to meet Justin’s hot hole again and again, loving how their lovemaking was feeling. He reached up and pinched both of Justin’s nipples hard just then.

“I’m gonna cum!!!” Justin groaned. With that he shot seven or eight huge, creamy globs of his hot sticky cop cum, which splattered down all over Eric’s furry chest.

“Ugh! FUCK!!!” Eric exclaimed, as he shot his own big load up into his man.

Meanwhile, upon arriving back at the Battlefield Apartments on the tired side of Pleasant View – my God, did they always have to be so cheap when moving him to a new town? – Ronnie walked into his two-room efficiency in what had once been a roadside motel and slammed the door behind him, kicking off his shoes as he walked across the room. He turned on the heat, as the temperature had turned very cold, at least for April, just in the last couple of hours.

Frost was a possibility that night, meaning he might have a windshield to scrape before starting that godforsaken UPS route the next morning. Joy. When reading up on the region before starting this assignment, Ronnie had learned that Kentucky weather folklore calls for a "little winter," "cold spell," or “cold snap” to coincide with the first spring blooms on each of the various area flowering trees. He had found this to be surprisingly accurate, and judging from the profuse deep red blossoms of the redbud trees he had noticed while driving the UPS route earlier in the day, he supposed this must be what the yokels called “Redbud Winter.”

At forty-three years of age, Ronnie had never been in a serious relationship, although he had enjoyed more than his fair share of sex with both men and women way back in his college days. Graduating from Stanford with honors at 21, he had taken that first FBI field office job fresh out of college, and had not really ever looked back since along the long, strange road that had led him from there to here.

With his tall, lean, muscular body, hairy chest, shock of slicked back dark brown hair, still rather boyish face, and piercing blue eyes, he did indeed look very much like the singer and actor Chris Isaak, and was as a result nearly anyone’s definition of sexy. But, as far as sex, somewhere along the way Ronnie without really even realizing it had become what you might call a solosexual. He truly preferred getting himself off to anyone else’s attentions; it was better and a hell of a lot less trouble. Especially for a man who never even kept the same name or the same town for very long.

Ronnie sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled off his socks, and began to unbutton the plain white dress shirt he had put on after changing out of the brown UPS uniform earlier in the evening. He stood up and tossed the shirt carelessly aside, his nipples hardening as the still-chilly air of the room hit his lean, muscular, hairy chest. He slowly unbuttoned his dark dress slacks, but walked over to stand before the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door before going any further.

Ronnie gazed in smiling approval into the mirror at his erect nipples and strong chest, running a caressing hand gently across them. He gasped in audible pleasure. He slowly slid down the zipper of the black slacks, dropped them and kicked them aside, freeing his long, slender flaccid cock to flop above his big full ballsack. He had gone commando that night, sensing that his obvious bulge and the even more obvious ridge of his cockhead in the tight black pants had given a cheap thrill to all of the women and more than a few of the men when he had strode cockily (quite literally) in to have dinner at the Ramblin’ Rose Diner in town before going to the lake to watch that night’s activities.

Ronnie ran his fingers through the black bush above his cock, which was an impressive five inches even when soft. He then caressed his big, full, hair-dusted nuts, and gasped in pleasure again. His impressive cut rod began to rise to attention then, quickly becoming rock hard as he watched in delight in the mirror. It was soon standing at its full engorged nine and a half inches, as Ronnie began stroking it fast and hard.

“Ahh! Oh yeah!” Ronnie grunted approvingly at himself in the mirror. He soon was sprawled on the bed, long hairy legs spread wide, loving every second of jacking his long slender prick fast and hard. He tended to go for a long time and to be a huge, shooting cummer, and tonight was to be no exception. As he was midway to his release, Ronnie was too distracted to know that a long, black Cadillac had pulled into the spot out front next to the black Crown Vic that Ronnie was driving while in Pleasant View.

The man in the old Cadillac had also been noticed when he stopped at the Ramblin’ Rose earlier that night. The diner had recently reinstituted old-fashioned car hop service for the first time in decades, and the like-new ’67 Sedan DeVille and the man in it both turned several heads. When he had stopped for a late dinner at ten o’clock before driving to the lake, the man noted that the temperature was already starting to drop as he rolled down the window and placed his order into the speaker in a very precise, pleasant, crisp voice with all the diction of an old-school radio announcer.

The girl inside who took his order through the drive-in speaker would later also describe his voice as sounding, "Sorta almost mechanical - you know, like the NOAA Weather Radio sounds giving a storm warning, or almost like those computers who talk for people who can't." The waitress who brought out his order noticed that the man was probably every bit of 60, but was still incredibly handsome, as he again rolled down his window when she approached with his order and as he took it and paid her for it.

He, like his ride, looked like he had just come from the set of Mad Men, dressed in a white shirt, black tie, and black suit. He was very slender and very tall, which was apparent even when seated in the Caddy. He had slicked back salt and pepper hair, and really the most handsome face the waitress had ever seen, especially on a man of his age.

He didn't really say much at all, she would later recall, but she clearly remembered that big, wide, handsome, but somehow unsettling smile that had remained plastered across his face throughout their little transaction. She thanked him and was still staring into that smile as he rolled the tinted window of the Cadillac back up to have his dinner and block out the chill night air. As she walked back into the restaurant, she noticed that the twenty he had handed her, waving her off when she started to give him change, was more than just a really good tip over the cost of the man’s Rueben and fries. It was also a really old bill. A closer look revealed it to be a 1966 twenty, bearing the signature of LBJ’s treasury secretary.

Ronnie was reaching a shattering orgasm there on the bed now. “FUCK!! Oh, FUCK!!! Uh! UHHH!!!” he grunted loudly, not caring if the neighbors heard, as volley after volley of thick, white cum began to fly from his big dick. Two squirts hit him right on the mouth and chin. As the orgasm was still rolling through him he licked his lips, tasting his own sweet cum in delight. He scooped up some more off his chest and ate it lustily. Soon he was asleep, sated and tired, and still bare-assed naked there on top of the covers of the broken down old bed.

He had no idea that the Cadillac had pulled in out front. He had no idea that the man driving it was now standing just outside the window with its shades which Ronnie had neglected to close, thinking secretly that he wouldn’t care if someone did get the pleasure of watching him pleasure himself. The man from the car was rather glad he had missed that spectacle, although the drying cum on Ronnie’s chest hair and the way he was peacefully sleeping neither left any doubt as to what he had just been up to.

Ronnie’s self-pleasuring was of less than no concern to the man from the Cadillac, though. He had much more important matters to deal with. The man straightened his black jacket, climbed back into the Cadillac, started it, backed out and started driving back out toward the country, where he could make his rendezvous undetected. He was thinking back to having been through Kentucky on the way to West Virginia for that infamous first assignment of his way back when. He had been only 18 back then, but had looked much older. Now, ironically, everyone said he looked younger than his 65 years.

Only the two red taillights of the vintage Caddy were visible in just a few moments, as Indrid Cold drove on out of town.