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    Lee Wilson
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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. 
This story is an original work of gay fiction. None of the people or events are real. While some of the town names used may be real, any other geographic references (school, events) are purely fictional. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is completely coincidental. This story depicts sexual situations between adult males. If reading this is illegal where you reside, or you are not at least 18 years of age, you are reading at your own risk. This work is the property of the author, Lee R Wilson, and shall not be reproduced and/or re-posted without his permission. Story ©2024 Lee R Wilson.

Manny Needs a Nanny - 1. The Meeting and A Huge Surprise

Monday

The hangover wasn’t bad, but Manny Talbot’s head still pounded in time with the opening beats of his ringtone, 'We Will Rock You.' He thought to himself, ’Okay, eleven o’clock in the morning isn’t too early. I guess, I’ll answer it. Maybe a rich uncle went toes up or something.’

“Hello?”

“Good morning. Is there a Truman Talbot there?”

“This is Truman, who wants to know?”

“This is Brewster James. You’re a difficult man to track down, Truman. Is it okay if I call you Truman?”

Manny thought, ‘If you had trouble tracking me down, so will telemarketers and collection agencies. Mission almost accomplished.’

“Let’s go with ‘Mr. Talbot’ until I know what this is about.”

“Of course, Mr. Talbot. I represent the estate of Boris Tanner. Do you recognize that name?”

‘Estate? Maybe it IS a rich uncle that bought the farm.’

“Not that I know of, but I’m a little under the weather this morning. How about a hint?”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Talbot. His will indicates that Mr. Tanner was a classmate of yours at Travis Jones Elementary School from 1997 through 2004. I’m the executor of his estate and you are mentioned in his will.”

“Mentioned. What exactly does that mean?”

“That’s a little complicated. I have an office in Hoschton; could you make it there tomorrow or Wednesday?”

Manny lived one town over, in Braselton.

“I guess, that’s close enough. What time?”

“What’s good for you? I’m not usually in that office, so I’m free both days.”

“I work nights. How about tomorrow, two PM?”

“That will be fine.”

“Can I ask if he left me something?”

“Yes, he did, but there are conditions that I must share in person.”

“Conditions? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ve been instructed to only provide details in person.”

Brewster James provided Manny with his address, and they agreed to discuss it further on Tuesday.

Manny started racking his brain, trying to remember who the fuck Boris Tanner is. 'No make that had been, since he just croaked.'

He felt there were a couple boxes of his old shit left around after his parents died. He supposed, old yearbooks and other school shit would be among them.

‘Now, where the fuck did she put them?’

Manny searched for a while and finally found the box with his elementary and middle school pictures in the attic.

‘2004, that could be anything from fifth to seventh? Eighth?’

He took the box down to the kitchen and looked at the clock.

‘Eleven-forty-five? Too early for a mixed drink. But it’s never too early for a beer.’

Although imbibing a mixed drink for Manny meant one part alcohol and one part soda or juice, a.k.a. bourbon and coke or vodka and orange juice—maybe cranberry juice—Manny cracked open his beer, chugged almost half of it, then opened his fifth-grade pictures.

Nobody was home since he lived alone, but Manny exclaimed loudly anyway, “Oh shit! That guy? Rocky?”

He remembered; Rocky Tanner was his best friend until he was like twelve.

Still talking to himself, “We moved, and I never saw him again. Christ! I haven’t thought of him since—what—a year later?”

Manny put Boris’ name into a search engine. The first entry was a link to his obituary.

Boris Rockland Tanner, 32, of Lula, GA, passed away on July 10, 2024, after a short hospital stay, from injuries sustained in a motor vehicle accident. He was predeceased by wife Kelly Tanner, nee Winston, parents Ivan and Polina Tanenov, and left behind a son, Rockland, 13. Services…

He stopped reading. Still talking to himself, “Last Wednesday. Huh. He’s got a kid. It doesn’t mention any other family, but I’m pretty sure, he had a brother or a sister. What the fuck would he have left me, and why? Fucker got married? He must have turned straight after he gave me my first blowjob.”

Stopping with the verbal thoughts, he continued in his mind, ‘That was right before we moved. Too bad, he might have done it more if we didn’t move away.’

Inheriting something would be nice. Manny didn’t necessarily need a lot of money. He still lived in the house, he spent his teen years in. It was paid off with life insurance from his father. The life insurance from his mother came a year later and it just made things easier for him.

Manny wasn’t exactly lazy, but he didn’t like to work hard either. He supplemented his savings by working as a bartender Tuesday through Saturday, five PM to closing. The pay wasn’t great, but he could pretend to be nice with the best of them, so his tips were pretty good. If money wasn’t involved, he could be a real shit. He looked out for number one, himself, and nobody else was ever important enough to care about.

Having the night off, Manny sat around the house, doing what he did every day off. He watched movies on Tubi and jerked off between beers. He felt, since he lived alone, he could hang in his house naked. This obviously made the solo sex easier. He also liked freaking out the Grubhub and Door Dash drivers by answering the door completely naked. Well, when it was a guy. Flashing a chick could have gotten him in trouble. That and he didn’t get any pleasure out of it. He thought, ‘Chicks were only good for one thing; cooking and cleaning.’ The fact that these were two things was totally missed by him.

Today was no different. Door Dash arrived. He looked out the window and saw the cute guy, Orlando. Manny opened the door, proudly displaying his five-inch cock at full staff.

Looking down, “I already added a tip, Orly, but if you want another one, help yourself.”

Orlando loved delivering to Manny. He not only got to see his dick, but every so often, like today, Manny would have a hard-on and offer him a touch. Manny offering him a tip meant he could suck it for a minute. He looked around, brought in the food, and knelt in front of Manny.

“I’ve been horny all-day, Orly—there will be something extra in it for you this time.”

Orlando started sucking. Manny was right about being horny. Orlando sucked for maybe thirty seconds before Manny exploded into his mouth with that something extra.

After swallowing, “Thanks, Manny. I love your tips.”

“I know you do, Orly. And I love giving them to you. See ya next time!”

“You bet.”

Orlando was younger than Manny’s thirty-two, being twenty-one or two. ‘He’s too young to get into a relationship with, but old enough to finagle a blowjob from every so often. I’m just being nice to the kid; he loves doing it. But I can’t let him every time, don’t want to spoil him.’

Shortly thereafter, Manny finished eating, dressed, and went to Charlie’s, the neighborhood bar where he worked.

Tuesday

The alarm went off at noon, like every other workday. But he had that meeting with the lawyer today. That meant, he needed to dress better than his usual torn jeans and a stained T-shirt. Manny hopped in the shower. He put on clean jeans and the polo shirt that Tim got him for Christmas last year. ‘Or was it, Tom? Whatever, he’s history anyway. Sucking that guy’s gross dick; a stupid shirt didn’t make up for it, that’s for sure.’

He had an idea where the lawyer’s office was. It was only the next town over, and he’d lived here twenty years. He still left ten minutes earlier than his GPS app, Waze, told him to do to get there at one-fifty-five.

He walked into the office, thinking 'I should have rented a fucking tuxedo. Their lobby looks like it belonged in a fancy hotel, like the Walmart-Ashtoria, or whatever the fuck it was.'

“Hi, Ma… um, Truman Talbot for Mr. James.”

“Yes, Mr. Talbot. He’s expecting you. I’ll let him know, you’re here.”

‘I may be gay, but I know beautiful when I see it; and she’s not a bad looking piece of ass if I leaned that way.’

“Thank you.”

A few minutes later, a tall black man walked into the lobby.

“Mr. Talbot?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Nice meeting you. Brewster James. If you would follow me, please?”

After entering an office, Manny thought would fit well in New York or DC, he thought to himself, ‘this guy must have cost a bundle. Rocky had to have been loaded.’

“So, Mr. Talbot, as I said on the phone yesterday, I am the executor for Boris Tanner’s estate. His will gives you a choice: If you choose not to accept the condition, you will leave this office today with the sum of two-hundred and fifty dollars. The amount you will receive upon acceptance is significantly larger.”

“Do I get to know what the condition is before I say ‘yes’ or ‘no’?”

“Yes. He felt the responsibility, you would have after certain steps were taken, would require full disclosure.”

“Responsibility? What did he do, leave me his dog?”

The lawyer thought ‘this guy’s a jerk. If it wasn't for Rockland’s being kept in the foster system, I would have hoped he turn it down.’

“Not exactly…”

Interrupting, “Why me?”

“Mr. Tanner indicated in his will that you were his first love. Based on the circumstances of his death, he felt, there would be no-one else he could trust.”

‘First love? What the fuck?’

“Okay, let’s cut to the chase, Mr. James. Give me a blind man’s clue here. What the fu… what exactly are we talking about?”

“Blind man’s clue?”

“Yeah, a clue so obvious a blind man could see it."

“Yes, well. We are talking about his son, Rockland.”

“A kid? He wants me to take care of his kid?”

“That is an incomplete summary, but accurate. Wait here a moment while I bring him in.”

A few minutes later, the lawyer walked in with a small boy, Manny thought ‘if he is thirteen, I’m Liza Minelli.’

“Rockland, this is Mr. Talbot, as you’re aware, the man your father chose to take care of you should he and your mother both die.”

“Why can’t you call me ‘Rocky’, like I asked you to a dozen times?”

“Sorry, Rocky. Mr. Talbot?”

“Um, hi, Rocky. I’m a little surprised about this.”

“No shit? Me too. So, you were my dad’s first boyfriend, huh?”

“Well, no. We never considered each other boyfriends, but we were best friends for several years.”

“Not what he always said. Anyway, so do I get to go home with you or go back into foster care?”

“That’s his only other choice, Mr. James?”

“Yes, I’m afraid that is true. Mr. Tanner left no alternate instructions. But regardless, he wouldn’t go home with you today in either case. There are things to do before that can happen.”

“Okay. But you said the amount I’d receive would be significantly larger if I agreed. What are we talking about?”

“Until the arrangement becomes permanent, you will have access to a sum sufficient to feed, clothe, and otherwise care for him until he is eighteen.”

'Can't this guy just answer without a five-minute monologue?'

“Permanent?”

“Yes, if you are approved to adopt Rocky, the remainder of the estate will be distributed in a proportion defined in the will.”

“And how much would that be?”

“Due to the terms of the will, I cannot tell you that unless and until an adoption is finalized.”

“So, let me get this straight…”

Rocky laughed quietly, knowing Manny was not even close to being ‘straight,’ if he used to be his father's lover.

Glaring at the boy, “Ahem. So, if I have this right, I get enough to take care of him until he’s eighteen. If I’m able to and do adopt him, I get another percentage of the estate.”

“That is correct.”

“I work nights, if that meant hiring a nanny or something…”

“That cost would be covered by the estate.”

“Can I get a trial period or something like that? I mean, he may end up hating me.”

Rocky quietly thought, 'That would depend on how big an asshole you end up being.'

“If you would be willing to take a vacation, nearly immediately, yes, you could spend a week with him, for which you will receive the sum of five hundred dollars, to cover any potential expenses.”

“When can I pick him up, then?”

“The trial period would begin the first day of that vacation. Or three days from today, whichever is later.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow, Mr. James. Rocky, it looks like you’ll have a new home.”

Manny was only partially right.

 

Next up - "Just a Trial Period, or More?”

Copyright © 2024 Lee Wilson; All Rights Reserved.
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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. 
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