The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons, in towns, cities, nor governmental areas, which the story is stages. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offences you, then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most state and countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such. Sexual safety matters. This is fiction. Use protection, in real life.
FOR SALE BY OWNER 53 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"I didn't know rolling in the hay could be so dangerous!"
"I think I'll live," Jack replied as Jim looked deeply into his eye, looking for more than love this time.
"You don't think we should go see a doctor?"
"Nah. I'm sure whatever is in there will come out if I just blink a few times."
Straying, Jim says, "Well I'm sorry we came so close and you never... you know." He glanced at Jack's basket of eggs.
"You're not sticking around?" Jack questioned him, turning from the jon mirror as his two hands grabbed the sides of the sink basin.
"I'm not going anywhere. That is unless you want me to... go?"
"You're not going anywhere," Jack replied in an authoritative manner, then quibbered, "Ouch.. ouch.. ouch..."
"Forget it. We're getting you to a doctor. Where's the truck keys?"
Jack had to stop and think a moment. In all of his teen and adult life he's never had anybody as much as suggest him to do something in such an authoritative manner, other than the CEO at the parole division he worked for.
With a keen sense of what was running through Jack's mind, Jim said, "Look, this doesn't have anything to do with life's little fantasies. You need some medical attention and we need to get you there. For sure you're not driving with your eye like that!"
It was a new part of Jim he hadn't seen yet, the 'take charge' attitude. Creasing his lips, Jack relented, "Down in the kitchen hanging on the key rack behind the door."
"Good. You get dressed and I'll meet you downstairs," Jim directed, grabbing his jeans and tee shirt. Then sticking his head back in the door, "You can make it down the stairs on your own?"
"If you hear a big thud, come running!"
Walking back in the room, Jim said, "Don't go kidding about stuff like that. If you need my help I'm here for you."
His hand on Jack's bare shoulder felt like a heating pad. He began to do what he set out to do before, kiss Jim, but it seemed like any movement of his face touched off the pang in his eye. "Ouch... ouch... ouch-dammit! Ouch!"
"Get your clothes on. I'll meet you out front."
However, as Jack approached the top landing of the stairs, there Jim stood at the bottom.
"I thought you said you were going to meet me outside?"
"Just think Jack. If you fall and break your neck you'll never get to string me up to the whipping post!"
"Wrong. If you get as much as one scratch on my truck, I'll be stringing you up!"
Natural to his already eager thinking, the little voice inside Jim's head told, `Take a rock and make a little scratch on the bumper!' "Nah," he said out loud to himself.
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"I forget. Why are we going downtown?"
"Scotty, you've got too much 'Reiko' on your brain!" Kyle replied.
"Don't you think he's cute?"
"Cute Scotty? Unn-uh. He's outright damn gorgeous! Oh man, when he took his shirt off in the kitchen...."
"Yeah, he does have a nice set of abs, doesn't he?"
"And pecs and legs and... well I'm sure you know about the parts under his shorts," Kyle says, taking a quick glance away from the windshield.
"Actually I don't, for your information."
"Oh? Then what about the hour you took putting Reiko's bike away in the guest room?"
"It wasn't any hour, Kyle and you know it!" Scott said with accusation.
"Okay, so forty minutes."
"Not even that. Try fifteen?"
"A lot can happen in fifteen minutes."
"Kyle, Reiko's not like that. He's a kind and gentle guy. He's not some wolf who's ready to get into the sheep's clothing."
"Or the sheep getting under the wolf's fur?"
"Kyle, you're being a dork!"
Kyle had to laugh at the word Scott used, totally out of his vocabulary to state such a thing.
"I never considered myself a dork... oh excuse me... look."
"Where?"
While stopped at the red light, Kyle points out of the windshield, "The two guys over there waiting for the bus?"
"The blond guy looks kind of nice."
"Nice, Scotty? He's like a walking bombshell!"
Then like he had to defend, Scott says, "I think Reiko is a bombshell."
Before stepping on the gas, Kyle tells Scott, "You know it's alright to say something cool about another guy even though you like one a lot?"
"I like Reiko. I feel a sense of security around him, like nothing can happen to me. Also....well we did kiss while in the guest room."
"Aha! So you did get down to some..."
"But none of that. Reiko is a sweet guy. He's not in any hurry to get into bed. I kind of like that in him. As far as even paying attention to another guy? I don't want to do anything to jeopardize what we have going."
"I know Scotty," Kyle replied, thinking back to the story of how Scott was betrayed by a friend, beaten up because he was gay, ostracized by his peers, making his senior year in high school a living hell. "Nobody deserves a better break than you do. I'm happy for you."
"Thanks Kyle and I'm real glad I met you at registration. I'm glad to have you and the other guys as my friends."
"Let's not get into that Scotty. Um, what's for dinner tonight anyway?"
Scott held allegiance to Reiko, but there wasn't much he would not do for Kyle. For now, planning and making the meals was an act of pleasure and payback for all the kindness Kyle has rendered.
"Reiko has invited me out to some swanky party. You don't mind, do you?" Scott said, waiting for a reply as if asking his father.
"You don't need my permission. Hey, I think it's great. You're new to New York and already you're getting around, Scotty. A bonus is you have such a hunky guy's arm to hold on to."
Smiling, Scott said, "Right."
"So have you thought about what you're toing to wear?" Kyle asks, stopping at the next corner, making a right and heading west for a block, turning right again, heading up Park Ave.
"I thought you were going downtown to pick up something for Alex?"
"I was. But now we're going uptown. If you're going out you're going to need something dazzling to wear of course."
He knew Kyle was tired of hearing it, Scott wearing out the phrase, but he was self conscious of the fact so blurted out, "You're forgetting something again, Kyle?"
"Yes and you're forgetting about what I said about it!"
"Okay," Scott surrendered, thinking of when four or five or whatever years passed, how he was going to manage to pay Kyle back for the thousands of dollars he was spending on his behalf, for school tuition and now whatever men's shop they were ready to descend upon. "Where are we going?"
"For your first date with Reiko we need to deck you out in something special."
His hand tearing at Kyle's arm for his attention, Scott said, "Oh, one thing. Reiko said dress semi-casual. What do you think he meant by that?"
"We'll think about it after we see what they've got. One thing though."
"What's that?"
"Do me a favor Scotty and don't look at the price tag of everything in the shop?"
"I've gotta see what it cost so that when I pay you back I know how much I'm spending," Scott returned, somewhat whimsically.
"You can figure it out after we get home. Just promise me this?" Kyle almost begged, knowing Scott wasn't use to shopping anywhere but maybe Wal- or Kmart.
"Okaaaay," Scott replied, his voice trailing in a low tone.
"Hold on to your lugnuts!"
Suddenly Scott's stomach seemed to lurch upwards, cramming into his throat. After Kyle jammed on the accelerator, tires screeching, he expertly parked his car in between two other late models.
"Cool! I thought we would be looking for hours for a space," he said, throwing it into park. "Whatsamatter, Scotty? You look like you wanna barf!"
"Oh nothing. It's just that I never was a passenger in a car that went from fifteen to eighty in two seconds!"
"I wasn't going eighty. C'mon."
Out of the car, Kyle was around the front, holding Scott's door for him.
"Thanks. Where are we going?"
"Right here!"
Looking up at the storefront, Scott made out, "Braddock's?"
Hauling him on by the arm, Kyle guides him from sidewalk to the front door.
"Thanks," Scott says, looking back, paying more attention to the guy who held the door for them, returning the smile. Then to Kyle, he asks, "From the way you talked I thought Braddock's had everything?"
"A little known, hidden secret. This Braddock's is only for men."
"Serviced only by men?" Scott comments, looking about, seeing only men behind counters.
"Forget about Reiko already, huh?"
Punching Kyle in the arm, Scott says, "It was you who said it was okay to look at other men!"
"I know. C'mon. I have some cool threads I want you to try on."
While Kyle chatted with a salesman, Scott unearthed a ticket on a mannequin, shoved way up the sleeve of a jacket. When the salesman turned to Scott, he innocently asked, "Eight hundred dollars for a suit?"
The guy replied, "Um no. The jacket and pants are separate."
"Eight hundred dollars for a shirt?" Scott said, eyes as big as saucers. "Kyle, did you..."
"He's such a kidder," Kyle said, breaking out in laughter.
When the salesman led them away, Kyle scolded Scott, "What'd I tell you about checking out prices?"
"Sorry, but it seems like an awful lot of money. My last suit my mom paid eighty bucks. She even got the shirt half price!" Next order of business, he asks Kyle, "Is he going to be waiting on us?"
"Yeah. Cute isn't he?"
"Right this way sir," he said, the suited twenty-something guy leading them through the aisles of fabrics, all coordinated for a certain appeal.
"Nice swimmer's build, huh?" Kyle softly said to Scott.
"Swimmer's build?"
"Swimmer's? You know.... broad-shouldered, a 'V' shape to the waist," Kyle replies, his two index fingers mapping out the shape of the salesman's rear view.
"It's hard to tell with the jacket."
Kyle smirked, saying, "Use a little imagination!"
Using his imagination, Scott came back with, "I thought we were shopping for clothes."
"How about something along these lines?" the salesman held out a shiny fabric suit jacket.
"How much?" Scott slipped out.
Kyle's hand floated over his face in embarrassment as he said, "I give up Scotty."
Placing the jacket back on the rack, the salesman smiled, saying, "Scotty. That's a nice name. Y'know I may work at Braddock's but I sure don't make the salary to shop here." From his high-mannered perch, the salesman seemed to slide down to Scott's level of shopping.
"So where do you shop?" Scott asked as Kyle began recovering.
"Wherever I can find a bargain. Sometimes it's here at Braddock's. If something doesn't sell they ship it out to the main store. Sometimes Mr. Braddock will give us guys a break on it, but not me. Oh no," the talkative salesman went on, "I'm doing graduate work at NYU and that spells big bucks!"
"What's your field of study?" Scott asked as Kyle began to fade into the racks as if lost in the jungle.
"Well first I don't think it's fair I know your name and you don't know mine. I'm Mathieu Berdeau."
"Matthew?" Scott repeated, knowing he didn't say it right.
"No. Mat-tee-ooh. Say it slow then faster at the end."
'Isn't this sweet?' Kyle thought, standing there leaning with his elbow on the crosspiece of one of the wooden racks. 'I came all the way uptown to shop for Scotty and he's taking French lessons from some hunk!' "Um, I hate to rush you Scotty, but we've got to get downtown yet to pick up Alex's birthday present?"
"I'm so sorry," Mathieu apologized, seemingly to Scotty only.
"It's no problem, but Kyle's not the only one who has places to go."
As Mathieu held up a pink shirt, Kyle rejected it. Mathieu made small talk, "So what big affair do you have this evening?"
"My boyfriend... I mean my friend..." Scott studdered.
"I've got one too."
"You're gay?" Scott came out with.
Kyle rolled his eyes, saying to himself, 'Oh boy. This is going to be one long shopping trip!' "Um, Scotty can we hurry it up? Martha's going to be waiting for me if we don't put on a hustle?"
"Martha who?" Scott and Mathieru both said at once, looking at each other and then breaking out in giggles like two eight year olds.
"Martha Stewart? She's meeting me downtown to pick out a sewing machine for Alex?"
Scott looked plainly puzzled, but Mathieu stood there with his jaw hanging down. "You know 'thee' Martha Stewart?"
Casually, Scott says, "Kyle knows everybody. Him and Stephen Braddock are like this," he held two fingers up, crossing them.
"You know my boss? Holy cow!"
Kyle wondered why he even bothered to open his mouth. However as they shopped little shopping was done, Scott and Mathieu chit-chatting away as if old high school buds at a class reunion. Kyle had to give Mathieu credit for one thing. When Scott mentioned the one fact Kyle hadn't even known, that he and Reiko were dining at the 'Roof', the elegant eatery atop the Gramercy Hotel, Mathieu immediately directed Scott, arm around his shoulder, whisking him away to the Dolce & Gabbana shop of Braddock's. He also credited Mathieu with working so fast, having Scott stationery at the changing room, tossing shirts and pants over the door asking, "How did this fit?" or "How did that fit?" or sometimes Mathieu would take the liberty of staring over as Scott zipped up a pair of slacks, before the shirt went on.
Kyle again rolled his eyes when Scott made a play on words, "You know my name and I know yours. You've seen my chest, when do I get to see yours, Mathieu?"
In seconds Mathieu had a little white card out, jotting down his cell phone number and email.
It took three salesmen, all under Mathieu's direction to bring bags and boxes out from Braddock's and stuffing Kyle's trunk and back seat. Two minutes after the trunk was closed, Scott lingered outside the Sebring, chatting away with the lone salesman.
Unrolling the passenger window, Kyle yelled out, "We've got to get a move on it Scotty!" 'Should've minded my own business', he said to himself as his words fell on deaf ears.
"Call me tonight?" he heard Mathieu say.
Scott replyed, "What about your boyfriend?"
"Friend. Not boyfriend," Kyle heard Mathieu plainly say.
"Could be late," Scott shouted above the sound of his door slamming shut. "Hold on a sec," Scott said to Kyle, grasping Kyle's wrist like a handcuff as his other hand depressed the open button for the window.
"Late is fine," Mathieu seemed to shout into the vehicle, as he closed Scott inside. "Nice meeting you, um..."
Kyle said, "Kyle."
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"I've heard of them, read about them, but never saw them this far up close," Vince said, standing outside the entrance to the Waldorf Towers, the most elegant living space in New York City, between 49th and 50th streets.
"Neck stiff yet, Vince?" Jason joked.
"Are you guys going to stand out here all day?" Jarrett prodded as he stood midway between in and out, as a hunky guy in hotel uniform held the door open.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," Vince said to the thirty-something looking door valet.
"I assure you it's no problem sir," The door jockey replied, adding a smile and a wink.
"Hmm," Vince said, returning the smile.
Seemingly making an instant connection, the door guy offers, "The hotel wishes to serve and accomodate to the fullest extent during your stay, sir."
"Very hospitable of you," Vince read the little etched-out brass-nickel badge, "Cliff."
He smiled even though Vince shortened the 'Clifford'.
So enthralled with Cliff, Vince didn't respond in his usual negativeness when Jarrett hurried him, "Um Vince, like today?" But he did joke with Cliff, responding, "I'm gonna smack that kid!"
Cliff dared say, "Smack huh? I could go for some of that!"
Vince wasn't sure to what respect Cliff meant it, but replied, "Great. Then maybe I'll see you later, huh?"
As he felt a tingling in his uniformed pants, Cliff was way ahead of Vince, saying to himself, 'You can count on it.'
"So, are you all checked in?" Vince joked with Jarrett, seeing the desk clerk hand him a credit card-sized key.
"You're checked in," Jarrett replied.
"Me?"
Snatching the card from Jarrett's clutches, the hotel clerk smiles at Vince. "I was under the impression your son..." he stopped, realizing Jarrett couldn't possibly be Vince's son, "brother? Was checking in?"
Slapping Vince up against the stomach with the back of his hand, Jarrett remarks, "Oh pa-leese! Me a brother to this tub-of-lard?"
Startled, Vince turned away from the desk when he heard over his shoulder, "We'll be addressing that issue later I'm sure."
"Will we now Cliff?" Vince said with a smile when he came face to face with the doorman.
"If he's all set I'll take care of his luggage, Ron," Cliff said to the deskman. However, searching around Vince's personage he discovered only the patterned carpet. "I take it your luggage will be forwarded later, sir?"
"Much later," Vince replied, totally smitten with the hunk standing before him, maybe an inch taller than the top of his head.
"Maybe I can take your coat, sir?"
With tongue in cheek, as he peeled the insulated windbreaker from his shoulders, Vince wondered what it would be like being stripped by Cliff. Better yet, returning the favor!
Getting quickly bored, Jarrett says to Jason, "C'mon. Let's check the place out."
Ringing up an elevator, Cliff passed up the occupied one, a few guests entering. His hand holding Vince back, back of his palm against Vince's stomach, Cliff said, "We've got rules here about overloads."
It didn't go unnoticed, Vince watching Cliff make eye contact with the elevator boy, both producing an instant smile. "Oh sure. Would be terrible if we got stuck for hours, huh?"
"Awful," Cliff agreed.
When the side elevator opened, no one was standing in the perimeter of Vince and Cliff. Before them stood 'Yossi', so the tag read. "What floor?"
"Presidential suite," Cliff said.
However, as soon as the elevator door closed and they started moving, they stopped.
"Shit! I don't believe it," Vince said, looking up at the floor changes, seeing the lighted digits immobile, "we're stuck!"
"Yeah, shame isn't it?" Cliff replied, his left hand moving between Vince's right ribcage.
It's then Vince got the message, saying to the twenty-something Israeli by the lit up panel, "We're not really stuck are we?"
Along with the light accent came slick maneuvers, Yossi closing Vince in between his front and Cliff, the two sandwiching the thirty-four year old.
Speaking on behalf of the two employees, Cliff says, "Our hotel can be very accomodating to the 'needs' of our guests!"
"Hmmm," Vince said, his smile turning into a grin as he looked over his shoulder, wondering if it were Cliff's or Yossi's hands fidgiting with his belt. "Y'know guys, we 'could' take this to my room," he assumed ownership of the Presidential suite. The belt unbuckling ceased. Looking down in front of him Vince sees Cliff holding Yossi's hands, keeping him from further crotch disturbance.
"We're both on duty, but perhaps if you haven't any plans for this evening maybe Yossi and I could 'entertain' you?"
With his own throes of humor, Vince suggests, "Sure. I wouldn't mind leaving a `large tip' for either of you." As they backed off, Vince thought it comical, the two arguing over who was going to be the lucky one to get fucked. As both tidied themselves up, Yossi hitting the 'go' button, he learned a few things. Before the action would get started later on at least he knew Cliff to be a total bottom and Yossi swinging both ways, the stage setting for a threeway gangbang or something else more erotic.
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While Kyle and Scott headed back uptown with his Sebring stuffed with Braddock's bags, boxes imprinted in gold, Braddock's written fancifully across the top, some other excitement took place at the Coffee Bean.
"Happy birthday to Alex... Happy birthday to you," the male chorus sang out, accompanied by a few unknowns and a couple of regulars at the cafe.
"Cool!" Alex called out, seeing the sheet cake, the words 'Happy Birthday Alex' written across it.
"Whadya waiting for?" Phil said in a Brooklyn accent. Coming on board early for this special occasion he remarked as others watched the candles burning near the icing.
"Don't forget to make a wish," Ian said, giving Alex a sly look.
With a thought in mind Alex bent over and blew over the whole cake til he exhausted his lungs. As the smoke rose, a round of applause rang out from the Coffee Bean dining area.
"What's all the commotion?"
'Oh boy', Alex thought, riding on a natural high, but at the same time making remark at seeing Stephen Braddock walk in along with David Sonnemaker and Afon Hasteras, plus some other guy who looked familiar, but he couldn't place the face nor put a name to it.
Each had his own comment to whisper in Alex's ear as they greeted him with fond wishes.
Stephen being first, wished him a, "Happy birthday Alex," then stuffing an envelope in his hand, "make sure you only shop at Braddock's!"
The other Coffee Bean gang saw what Stephen placed in Alex's hands and heard the comment so reacted as Alex did with a giggle and a laugh.
Next, David Sonnemaker made it a point to grind himself 'into' Alex, wishing him, "Happy birthday, Alex," then tacking on, "I missed you at my party."
Alex, caught up in the ambiance of the cake, his friends, the laughter, applause, the singing threw the old response, "Maybe next time," immediately afterwards regretting it, especially when he saw Sonnemaker's eyes light up.
"I knew you'd come around. Next month I'll be seeing you at my place then. I'll make sure you get a hand-delivered invitation."
With Afon Hasteras next in line, came the nice greeting plus, "You know you own David Sonnemaker!"
The remark came out as a hushed tone, only Alex hearing but his mind not making a whole lot of sense about it. As the festive manner carried on around him, cake being cut, a bottle of champagne being uncorked, it stirred up Alex's thoughts of what Afon said about the 'owned' part, especially with David Sonnemaker's name attached.
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"You look like a pirate!" Jim said as he held the door for Jack as they made their exit from the hospital, laughing his head off.
"I think it's time to put that whipping post to use!" Jack replied.
Closing the passenger side, Jim hastily ran around the rear of the 4x4. Fed on his own humor, Jack's comment stoked the fire within. "If it'll make you feel better," Jim caused question in Jack's mind, his face showing it.
"What will make me feel better?" Jack questioned as Jim turned the key.
Backing out the 4x4, Jim replied, "Whipping me."
"You really want it don't you?"
"I think it might be good to practice up before you take me to the next bdsm party," Jim said with a cool response.
"Sonnemaker's next party is in about a month. If you're serious about going..."
Still with an 'in charge' attitude, Jim hands over the responsibility, "Oh, I didn't think I had a choice in the matter, 'sir'?"
"I guess that settles it then. You're going!" Jack said, taking authoritive control out of Jim's hands.
"Maybe you can teach me some of that slave stuff too. I kind of got a kick out of the way some of those slaveboys kiss up to their masters." Feeding right into Jack's hands, all the way home he let Jim talk himself into being bound, disciplined, putting Jack in the sadistic master's role, himself cast as the masochistic bottom, ending with, "I'd like to see how much pain I can take. So if you feel up to it, when we get back you can bind me to the whipping post?"
Smiling, Jack didn't say a word. He liked everything Jim talked about. There was only one flaw in his ramblings and he wondered how Jim would take it when he exposed it.
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2B continued...
NEW STORY: "LETS MAKE MATT" by T. Chase McPhee /nifty/gay/authoritarian/lets-make-matt former college dudes meet up a years later
Copyright 2008 T. Chase McPhee
This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection without prior written permission, by the author.