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- 07/21/2013
- 3,418 Words
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Jim and Chad, Part 2 - 22. Chapter 22
Chapter 22
I had been feeling kind of goofy and happy talking about how hot Chad and I were last night. But when I found out that someone else was in on the conversation, I felt the "you've been discovered" flash of terror rip through my body. The look on my face must have been a cross between the two feelings because Jeff and the waiter burst out laughing.
Almost immediately Jeff says, "Sorry, Jim. I should have cut you off before you said that."
The waiter chuckles and quickly follows with, "Gentlemen, there's no need to worry. All conversations that I overhear are kept totally private. But what you've said is pretty tame compared to some of the things I've seen and heard on this deck."
"Really?" I ask. Given how embarassed I feel, I really want to find out if someone else has done something more stupid than I have.
"Yes, really," the waiter says with a grin.
"So what's probably the most embarassing or funny situation you've seen or heard here?"
The waiter looks off down the canyon and thinks for a moment or two. Soon his mouth begins to curl up at the corners and I know he's thinking of something pretty good. But I know I'm in trouble when he looks down at me with an even bigger grin and points to Jeff. "Well, the way he gets you to embarass the hell out of yourself is pretty good."
I turn away, my face flushing again. I mumble a "Fuck you" and shake my head and chuckle at the comment. I should have known that the embarassment would continue. As Jeff chuckles, the waiter repentently says, "Sorry, I just had to. Please forgive me."
Grudgingly I say, "Forgiven." Then pointing at Jeff I say, "But please proceed before dickless over there sets me up again." Jeff laughs out loud at my comment, and the waiter grins broadly.
After a couple of seconds, he continues. "I've heard discussions about the size of parts of both the male and female anatomies, and how to get the most, um, pleasure when using them. I've also heard discussions about sexual positions on the cabin decks to keep from getting splinters and. . . ."
I should have known what the alcohol would do to me, because at the mention of splinters from the decks, I can't seem to suppress a loud snort. The waiter stops and I turn my head to determine why, only to find both Jeff and him looking at me, each with a huge grin on his face. "What?" I ask.
"So, do you have a suggestion?" Jeff asks, his eyes twinkling as he says it.
I look down at my lap and mumble, "Fuck you." Jeff laughs, but the waiter doesn't continue. I look up again and see both of them still smiling at me, the looks on their faces indicating that they want an answer. I feel my face immediately flush again and I think, 'Damn, they know. Don't know how, but somehow....'
"And?" Jeff asks.
"Oh, come on guys. It's just the alcohol talking," I retort rather loudly.
But neither of them move, and that shit-eating grin on Jeff's face keeps getting bigger and bigger each second.
Seeing that I can't win, I throw up my hands and say, "Alright already. Standing, wearing sweatshirts and . . . and nothing else on, one person bent over the handrail, the other in close behind doing, well, doing what comes naturally." I hear Jeff begin to chuckle, so I give in and tell everything. "Then a little later, both of you take off your shirts. While standing against each other to stay warm, the front person holds onto the handrail to support both of you while the back person moves in close, holds onto . . . and," showing the jerk-off motion with my hand, "massages the front person, and continues doing, uh, well, what comes naturally." Now I'm hearing chuckles from both. "And when you get too cold, you move inside to the bed to continue doing . . ." and Jeff and the waiter both say at the same time, "what comes naturally" and then burst into laughter.
The joke was lame, but the laughter is infectious and I quickly find myself laughing, also. I look over at Jeff as we laugh, and I see the sparkle in his eyes again. At that instant I finally get it: although he's embarassing the hell out of me, he's also making me really laugh about my situation, which is something I haven't done any this week. It feels good, and I think I'm beginning to understand why Jeff is here with me right now.
As the laughter dies down, the waiter finally says, "Well, now to really answer your question. The most embarrassingly funny time would have to be September a little over two years ago. It was a wedding shower for someone the boss knows. Although we normally don't reserve the deck, the boss made an exception in this case. The party, along with a weekend in a cabin for the bride and groom anytime after they were married, was her present to the bride-to-be.
"There were three of us serving twenty-four of them for lunch that day. I was serving the two main tables: the first table had four bride's maids, while the second table had the maid of honor, the bride-to-be, her mother, and the somewhat loony, 92 year old, great-grandmother. The boss warned me about Granny and I soon discovered why. After the third time she pinched my butt, I turned to ask her not to do it again. But I found that I couldn't do it, because she had the most angelic look on her face, in spite of her somewhat devilish actions."
Jeff and I chuckle. "Oh, this is gonna be rich," he says quietly which make me realize that we're both thinking the same thing.
"They ate and drank and ate and . . . let me put it this way, I've never seen so much food and wine disappear into such skinny bodies. After a couple of hours, it was time for the bride-to-be to open presents. They eventually got to the present from Granny, and it was the most unique present I've ever seen given at a wedding shower."
He pauses for a moment and chuckles. "At first the bride-to-be couldn't figure out what the item was at about nine inches long, a little over an inch and a half in diameter, and rounded on one end. I didn't know she was so naive because I immediately knew what it was, and some of the women on one side were giggling and whispering about it. However, after another ten or twenty seconds the young lady and her Mom still couldn't figure it out, so Granny spoke up and said, 'For God's sake, it's a battery-operated dildo.'"
"Oh my God," I laughingly say while Jeff laughs loudly.
"The young lady tossed the dildo back in the box and hastily moved on to the next present. But the dismayed Mom just had to ask 'Why?' which is something most of us know you don't ask a 92 year old woman. Well, Granny plainly said, 'If her new husband can't satisfy her, this can. And if he turns out to be an ass, then she can tie him down and use it on him to teach him a lesson. It's how I trained three of my four husbands to be nice to me.' Then she paused for a couple of seconds before adding, 'Too bad I lost the second one to another man because he liked it so much.'"
Jeff is now laughing so hard that he's about to fall out of his chair, and I'm laughing loudly, too. After a couple of minutes laughing, I catch my breath and say, "No way."
"Yes, and I'll get the boss out here to verify it if you wish."
"Oh, no need to," I quickly respond.
Soon the laughter dies down and I think that we're finished with the story. But in that deep, relaxed, Texas drawl of his, Jeff says, "Granny sounds like MY kind of woman."
All three of us lose it again, and I have to get up and walk around because I almost fall out of my chair laughing. I'm laughing so hard that tears form in my eyes. The waiter is walking around nearby laughing hard, too. We continue to laugh for a few more minutes, the laughter restarting a couple of times as we catch each others' eyes.
After we finally settle down, I sit down again and say to the waiter, "I don't feel so embarassed now. Thanks for that story."
"You're quite welcome. Can I get you gentlemen anything else from the bar?"
I point to my mug and respond, "Another of the same for me, and another an hour from now. That should be my limit." Then I look at Jeff and ask, "And for you?"
Jeff immediately says, "Actually, nothing for me please." He points to me and grinningly says to the waiter, "I'm the designated driver for the drunk tonight."
I laugh and say, "Bullshit. We walked here from the cabins. Now order something real."
With a snicker, Jeff asks the waiter, "What's the drunk having tonight?"
"A double hot buttered rum. What type of alchohol do you prefer?"
"Whiskey."
"The bartender has this really nice hot apple cider, heavy on the whiskey, with cinnamon, cloves, allspice and a slice of lemon. You interested?"
Jeff's half-second pause allows me to answer for him. "Yes, one now, and bring another an hour from now." Jeff starts to say something, but I cut him off with a glare. "I don't want give someone to option of accusing me of drinking alone tonight." Then I reach into my pocket, pull out four twenty dollar bills, and give it to the waiter. "Let me know if I owe more, but that should cover everything and leave a nice tip for you and the bartender." Then I turn and look at the waiter's eyes, making sure that he hears my next request. "And when you come back out here next time, make sure you make some noise, okay?"
The waiter laughs out loud at my last request. "This will be sufficient and the tip is very generous. I'll get your drinks to you very soon gentlemen." With that said, the waiter left us.
We both sit quietly for the next few minutes, our silence briefly interrupted by the waiter as he returns noisily with our drinks. After thanking him, he quietly retreats back into the lodge. I mix part of my hot drink in with the colder version and take a hefty swig, hoping the new alcohol will further the numbness I'm beginning to feel mostly in my hands and partly through the rest of my body and brain.
After another couple of minutes I feel Jeff's eyes on me, so I turn to meet those trusting eyes. Quietly Jeff says, "Sorry I embarassed you so much."
"Oh, that's alright." With a chuckle I add, "But just remember, paybacks are hell."
Jeff chuckles, then his face gets much more serious than I'd seen at any other time. A feeling passes between us, and I think he's trying to say that he's deeply concerned about me, but I'm not really sure what he's trying to say in that look. But in his quiet, deep voice, he confirms what I thought had passed between us. "You gonna be okay, buddy?"
"Yeah. I'll be okay." I look down and then look back up to catch his eyes again. "But thanks for the concern. Thanks for making me laugh again. And before this drunk forgets, thanks for the hug earlier too. It helped. They all definitely helped."
Jeff's face lights up with those words. The big grin appears and his eyes have a sparkle that could cause any person, gay or straight, to fall instantly in love with him. The brown hair blowing gently when a breeze blows by, that squarish face and strong jaw, and the mustache/goatee combination surrounding the bright white smile, all trigger feelings deep inside me. I have to look away, my face flushing once again as I think how hot he looks sitting across the table from me. He is TGL (Too Good Looking) as my friends would say.
Soon I realize that one of the triggers inside is a physical reaction to Jeff's good looks and the compassion he's shown to me. Unfortunately, that makes a certain appendage in my jeans begin to fill and lengthen. But I quickly counter by reminding myself that he's already taken, and that makes me wonder about the blond-headed guy I saw kissing him a couple of days ago.
"So what's with you and the blond-headed guy with the truck? Good friends? More than good friends?" I know I shouldn't pry, but the alcohol is doing its job, allowing me to relax some and be a little bolder than usual.
When I look over to Jeff's face, I'm astonished at the quick change in his demeanor: the sparkling eyes and broad smile have been replaced with a blank stare off into space. Jeff reaches for his drink and takes a big swig. After he puts the mug down, he glances over at me, then looks back down at his lap. After another long period of silence, he says, "Mike and I are more than good friends. As a matter of fact, he's been living with me for about six months now. The relationship is pretty good, except. . . ."
"Except?" I ask after waiting for him to finish.
After another long pause, Jeff responds, "I'm sorry, I've already said too much. If you don't mind, I'd like to drop the subject."
I look down at my lap and quietly say, "Oh. Okay. But the look on your face made me think that if I got you to talk about it, like you did for me, then you'd be able to work through whatever issues you might have." A breeze brushes across us, chilling me and making me feel like an idiot for changing to this subject.
After the breeze passes by, Jeff's shoulders slump a little, then he sighs and says, "Sorry. I really didn't mean to shut you down like that. I know you mean well, and I thank you for that." After a short pause, Jeff continues. "When we're rested and together, Mike and I are good, really good. Lots of laughter and, ummm, other stuff. But since just after he moved in he's been working too much, like 70 to 80 hour weeks. So now I never get to spend any real time with him. And even when I do, he's always too tired and uptight. He's the low man in his law firm, so he always gets the shit jobs or the pain-in-the-ass clients. It almost seems that since he has so little control at work, he has to be completely in control in our relationship away from work.
"And after two previous tries, this week was supposed to be our time together to work this out. But he had to go back Tuesday because his very first client, an older lady who's close to his family, was admitted to the hospital early Tuesday morning. I've lost count, but this year alone she's been admitted overnight and released the next day at least four times. I've met this lady and she's a spitfire of a woman who won't give up, so I thought that this was just another one of those times when she'd recover and be back out. Unfortunately, when I talked to Mike last night, she died about six yesterday morning."
Quietly I say, "Damn, that's gotta be rough. On him of course, but also on you because you can't be there to support him."
Jeff sighs then adds, "Yeah, but what concerns me more is that she talked to him a good part of the night, then when she wanted a hug near sunrise, she ended up dying in his arms. I don't think Mike has ever experienced someone close dying before, so when I talk with him, I can't tell whether or not he's realized what's happened. He's from . . . I'll just say he's from a very rich family in L.A., a family where he still has both parents and both sets of grandparents. So he's been sheltered his whole life and never been exposed to this type of situation."
He stops to take another drink of his cider. "But the big kicker that makes me feel guilty as hell is that I almost told him he had to stay here, almost told him that if he left, our relationship was over. So I'm not sure I know what to do or think. Do I try to help or do I stay away completely and let him handle it on his own? Part of me wants to run back to him, to hold him through all of this, but another part wants him to grow up and be a man about his life and our relationship."
I can tell that he isn't expecting me to answer his question or give advice, so I hint at the direction I think he should go. "So are you going to drive back tomorrow?"
"Unfortunately I can't. When we came up here, we drove up together. He took the truck back to L.A. for this emergency, so I don't have anything here."
As I look over at Jeff, suddenly my mouth disengages from my brain and I start babbling in my own relaxing and deepening voice. "Well, I've got an SUV, and I can take you back to Vegas and you can fly home from there, or I can even drive you to L.A. if you really need me to, and it's not that far away, and the traffic in L.A. really isn't that bad, and I'm kinda unoccupied right now, and . . ." and my brain finally engages and shuts down the babbling.
Jeff looks at me kind of funny, then he relaxes and the sparkle returns to his eyes along with a big grin. "Those drinks gettin' to you, buddy?"
I look away from Jeff and out into the canyon, my face flushing (again) as I realize that the world seems to be spinning some and my hands have that tingly numbness when I'm finally drunk enough--but not too drunk. I grin what I'm sure is a goofy grin, and I have to chuckle. "I guess that's pretty obvious by now, isn't it?" But with a serious tone to my voice, I add, "But no matter what my condition may be now, the offer's there if you need it because that's what friends do for friends. Well, at least I hope I can be considered a friend."
After a couple more seconds of staring out into the canyon, I feel a hand grip my arm. As I turn and look at Jeff, he says, "The gesture is certainly appreciated. And . . . I think you and I can be considered friends."
The sparkle in his eyes comforts me greatly. But it also makes that other part of me twitch again. Before I make another fool of myself, I say, "Thanks. But when you talk to Mike tonight, make sure to ask him if he needs you there. At the very least I can take you to the airport."
Jeff continues to hold my arm and look at me, then his body jerks for some reason. He pulls his hand away, sticks it in his pocket, pulls out a cell phone, and looks at the Caller ID on the front. "Ahhhh, speak of the blond-headed devil himself." He takes a quick look at this watch. "And he's calling really early tonight. I wonder what's going on."
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4
Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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