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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. 

Buzzard's - 2. Chapter 2: The Preliminary Round

Size me up, Size me down. Zip me up, Zip me down. Pull me out, Pull me in. But please. You and Me. You and Me.

Buzzard's

Chapter Two: The Preliminary Round

Am I alright? This close to him. With those big hands on my shoulders. His face inches from mine. His breathe on my ear. Was I alright? He was smiling at me now. He was rubbing my shoulders. “Give it a second, it was a shock I’m sure, but you will be fine.” Oh god, did he just sing to me? Then he seemed to catch on and our eyes locked. His eyes were wide set and deep under a sculpted brow. This close in was like staring into a mirror. Only this mirror didn’t’ reflect you back, it reflected… hurt. What?

“Come on let’s get you on your feet.” I watched him move away from me and stand. I didn’t like the separation, not at all. He came around me and picked up the box of lunch stuff from my lap. I hadn’t let go of it the whole time, but I let him have it. After setting the box aside he turned around and offered me his hand while looking down on me. Have you ever been soaked to the skin with coca cola? In very tight jeans. Have you ever had a raging boner in coca cola soaked jeans? There is no hiding it. He was looking down at me, but not at my face. So I looked down at me too. Then I turned very red, like chili pepper red and steam rose from my crotch. No shit. I saw him hesitate and take back his hand. Oh hell, he is going to turn around and walk away now. But he didn’t, he reached down with both hands, took me by my arms and picked me up just like that and sat me on my feet. And he held me there. “Are you steady now. Do you need help making your delivery? It looks okay. I think all the coke spilt on you, the bags look fine. But you will be short one coke.” He thought I was a delivery boy. It happened all the time. When you look eighteen/nineteen and not twenty five.

He stood there looking at me. Finally I found words. “I’m fine, thanks.” I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to go somewhere and talk for hours. I wanted and all I could do was stand there and look at the sidewalk. God he had big feet. I risked looking up a little. He had a wide stance that emphasized his legs and his thighs stretched the material of his slacks. Just glance at the budge and keep looking up. He looked like he was dressed for work, but without the blazer. Flat stomach and narrow waist. And then the swell of chest and the grace of shoulders and arms. And the face again. And the eyes.

“Listen I’m sorry to just leave you like this, but I am short on time and I have an important matter to attend to. If you are okay I need to be off.” Yeah, he was probably off to propose to his girlfriend. Guys like him always have a girlfriend. Time to let this fantasy go. Nothing like a slap of reality to clear out pesky delusions. Goodbye, Mr. Wonderful.

“I’m okay, thanks again.” I couldn’t look at him any longer. So I turned and picked up the lunch box and started off. Honestly, when am I going to grow up? I heard him over my shoulder. “Good, watch your step this time. See you around then.” I just nodded my head.

The shop was just as busy when I returned. The girls noticed the food arriving but not my dripping jeans. Thank you god. I told Judy the food would be on the table out back on the patio and to begin rotating the girls every twenty minutes so they could grab a quick bite. And that I needed a moment upstairs and pointed to my jeans. “What happened?” Judy smiled at me. She did know me well. “Later, okay.” I stepped out the back door.

When we bought the building all that was out here was trash and junk cars and a fire escape that was falling down. Now there was a deck that ran the width of the building and was multi-level going from the basement all the way to the roof. I sat the lunch box down on the table and turned to climb the stairs up to my apartment, when I heard Cindy call. “Wait, your one o’clock is here.”

I didn’t have any appointments today. I always floated on Saturdays. Saturdays were always our busiest days and someone had to orchestrate and problem solve and deal. “What appointment Cindy?”

“You know the guy interested in seeing the apartment.”

“When did this person call Cindy?” It’s good Cindy has talent as a colorist because she would never succeed as a receptionist.

“Yesterday. He’s here now.”

“Okay show him back here and I will take care of it.” He can look around while I change. Oh hell I can’t just change, I need a shower first. Maybe this wont take that long. Everyone wants the apartment, it’s the rent that stops them. And Judy and I don’t want four kids moving in together to share the rent.

“Hello, again. I‘m looking for the owner of the building.” It was him. Again. Mr. Wonderful. Mr. Unbelievable, Unattainable, Unfuckable. Well fuck.

“That would be me. I’m Jett Thomas.” Relax, he's not singing. It's an accent.

“I’m Arrow Fynn. I’m also a little surprised. I’m looking for an apartment.”

“Then let me show you the way. We will go up the back stairs first and then back down the front stairs after you have seen the apartment. That way you can see both.” Calm down. Just do the landlord routine. Jett took out his keys and unlocked the gate to the outside staircase. “The gates stay locked for security. Your key will work this gate and the one to your apartment’s deck but not the others.” One flight up he opened the gate to the deck. “Do you mind if I go change while you look around, it shouldn’t take more than 15 to 20 minutes. I’ve got to shower. This key opens the door.”

“Sure that would be fine. I guess that coke is getting sticky. I’ll be here when you get back.”

I don’t think I can survive this. Maybe he wont take it. I’m as hard as a brick again. It's what you wished for isn't it? Maybe I should go out and buy a lotto ticket.

Take it and bake it, cookie.

<br />Copyright © Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original art, characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.<br /><br />This story was originally written in early 2010.<br /><br />Transfer to new system on: 12/20/2010<br /><br />© Copyright 2010 by Bugeye. All Rights Reserved.<br /><br /><br /><br />
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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