Porterville

By Jerlar / Jetdesk / Mark Stevens

Published on Jul 20, 2013

Gay

This story contains graphic sexual scenes between males. If material of this nature offends you then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age in most states you are not allowed to read this story by law.

This story is purely a work of fiction. Any resemblance to person's living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely coincidental.

The author claims all copyrights to this story and no duplication or publication of this story is allowed, except by the web sites to which it has been posted, without the consent of the author.

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Mark Stevens

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The short time it took to drive to Porter Textile seemed like an eternity for Britt. He stopped at the gate and showed his ID to the security guard. The man gave him directions and in a short time he was walking inside the lobby of the largest business within fifty miles of Porterville.

He was greeted by one of the receptionists who indicated a closed door and told him, "Mr. McKenzie is expecting you."

The door suddenly opened and Devon was walking toward him. "Britt, thanks for coming."

Britt remained silent and followed Devon down a long hallway and inside a good sized office. He closed the door and looked around the room. "Your father's office?" he asked.

Devon nodded. "Britt, I've been going through lots of paperwork this afternoon. I decided if I was going to handle this job the right way I needed to be in touch with what is actually going on with the company."

"Are you?" Britt asked. "Getting in touch?"

"Yes, and I'm puzzled as hell about something. I'm not sure what it means, but I thought with all of the research you've been doing that you might be interested in what I've discovered."

Britt's heart raced as he asked, "What did you fine?" His mouth was suddenly very dry.

"I've been going over bank records for the company, and I've discovered something that makes absolutely no sense at all. For whatever reason, there has been a bank draft coming out of the general account here at Porter's and being deposited into Margaret Cooper's checking account."

"I'll be damned," Britt said.

"As far as I can tell," Devon went on, "Thomas Cooper never had any connection with this company; none whatsoever."

"He was never employed by Porter Textile in any way?" Britt asked.

"Never, to my knowledge," Devon replied. "I went to our payroll manager with this. He claims Cooper has never worked for us, and that the draft was already set up and active when he came on board with the company."

"Is it possible to find out just when this draft came about?" Britt asked. "I mean, can you find out how long this has been going on?"

"I should be able to. Let me give the bank a call. Have a seat."

Britt fell into one of the two big mahogany chairs in the room. Devon was on the telephone and shortly had the bank on the other end. As Britt listened, Devon explained his situation to the person on the other end, which in turn transferred him to a Bank Officer.

A few minutes later Devon ended his call and looked across the desk at Britt. "They're going to give me a call back," he said. "Might be a while. "Do you have time to wait?"

"I have no place to be," Britt assured him. "I'm a little curious about this myself. It sounds as if Margaret or Tom, one or the other, either worked for Porter's and was drawing some type of retirement; yet you say neither one of them have ever been employed here. That is odd."

"Yes, it is," Devon agreed. "All I know is we have been depositing two thousand dollars into Margaret Cooper's account each month, and for what reason, I have no clue."

Britt remembered his conversation with Alice Cooper. Aloud, he said, "I do know that Alice went to the bank to try and notify the company about her mother's death. Margaret had led her to believe that when her father passed away she had started drawing an annuity from a life insurance company. The bank assured her the proper people had been notified of her mother's passing."

"Really?" Devon shook his head and said, "I don't understand any of this."

"Have you mentioned this to your Mother?"

"No," Devon shook his head. "Right now I am distancing myself from her. She was just happy to know I was down here getting the `feel of things' as she put it."

The telephone rang at that moment, and they both jumped. "Hopefully it's the bank," Devon announced.

Rather that the bank, it was Elaine McKenzie on the line.

"Devon McKenzie, just why are you calling the bank?" There was no mistaking the anger in her voice; the tone in her greeting left no doubt.

"The bank called you, Mom?" he asked.

"Of course they called me," she said. "If you have any questions, you need to direct them to me. Do you understand?"

"Oh, I understand all right," he told his mother. "I understand you are upset because I called the bank. However, if I am going to take over for Dad, I need to know what all is going on, past, present and future."

"Are you speaking of the draft going to Margaret Cooper each month?" she asked.

"Yes, I am," he answered. "Why has this money been going into her account? Neither she nor her husband ever worked for the company, so I can't understand why she has been receiving funds from us."

Elaine McKenzie's voice sounded vague on the other end as she said, "I'm really not clear on that matter. It was something worked out between Margaret Cooper and your father. And, I do know for a fact that it was going to cease in the event of her death. That's all the knowledge I have concerning that matter, she ended."

"I see," Devon said thoughtfully. "Thanks, Mom. Sorry I bothered you."

"What's the scoop?" Britt asked.

"A load of shit, most likely," Devon answered. "She claims it was some sort of agreement between Margaret and my father, and that with Margaret's death, it was going to stop."

"What the hell is going on here, Devon?" Britt said and gave a sigh.

"Off the top of my head, I would say some sort of cover up," Devon decided. "I know my mother too well, and I know damn well my father never did a thing business wise without her being in the middle of the decision."

Britt was silent for a moment. Finally he said, "Devon, we really need to find out just how long Porter's has been depositing money into Margaret's account. Do you know anyone at all connected with the bank that might be willing to help us?"

"You mean someone that is willing to lose their job for us?" Devon asked, with just a hint of a smile on his face.

"Hopefully it won't come to that," Britt remarked.

Devon was thoughtful for a moment. Finally he said, "I know someone at the bank. In fact, I know someone quite well. I think he might be willing to give us a helping hand."

"Oh?" Devon had Britt's complete attention.

The new leader at Porter Textile nodded. "Ron and I go back a long ways."

"Ron?"

"Ronald James and I were in school together. Let's just say we did some experimenting together."

Britt saw the light. "Ah, I get you. You think he'll give you the information you want?"

"I think so. I'll wait and give him a call this evening. I would rather not call him at the bank."

"That's probably a wise decision."

Devon looked at Britt. Something was on his mind, and he felt he should say it. "Britt, I hope you realize something"

"What's that, Babe?"

"I hope you know that since I've met you there has been no one else in my life. You must believe me."

"I do, Babe, I do," Britt assured him. "What you did before you met me, well, that is your business, and as far as I'm concerned, lost in the past. The same as I hope you feel about my life."

"Thank you. I just don't want anything to mess us up," Devon said softly.

"We're fine, aren't we?" Britt asked. "At least I thought we were."

Devon nodded. "Damn fine."

Britt stood to his feet. "I guess I should go be going," he said. "Any plans for this evening?"

"Yeah, I do," Devon answered. "With you, I hope."

"Good. You want to do dinner?"

"That would be nice," Devon agreed. "How about something in?" he asked. "I'll give Ron a call this evening at home."

Britt assured him that an evening in would be perfect and left Porter Textile. It was after five o'clock, and the outer office was deserted as he walked out the door. His drive home was short, and he greeted his mother as he came inside the house.

Catherine Williams was in the living room. She greeted her son warmly and said, "How was your afternoon?"

"Great, Mom," he answered. He made no mention of the afternoon's developments; just that he was still searching through files and finding nothing of interest. Which was true as far as his own research was going. He told her what his plans were concerning his evening."

"You and Devon." It was a simple statement.

He nodded. "That's right. Is that all right with you?"

"Britt Williams, you do not need my permission to see whomever you please. I thought I had made myself very clear on that subject."

"You're the best, Mom," he told her. "I'm going to clean up."

Britt enjoyed his evening with Devon. First they ordered Chinese food, and when it came, sat back and enjoyed it, as well as the each other's company. As if an unspoken pack had been made, neither of them mentioned anything about the money that had been paid to Margaret Cooper over the years. They wanted time together. The both were aware of the fact they were developing a relationship, and they were still finding out things about each other.

They ate their meal with much laughter and teasing tossed back and forth between them. They realized they were heading somewhere as far as their lives coming together, and they were curious where it might lead them.

Finally the meal was over, leftovers put in the refrigerator, and Devon reached for the telephone. When he had Ron James on the line, he chatted a bit with small talk. Finally he said, "Ron, I have a big favor to ask of you."

"My God, what is going on?" Ron asked after hearing Devon's favor.

"Nothing that I know of," Devon assured him. "With the passing of my father, I have to take over his responsibilities; and I just want to know what is going on where the company is concerned. This bank draft to Margaret Cooper is just one of many things I am trying to get to the bottom of."

Ron agreed to look into the matter for Devon.

"Ron, there is just one thing you need to know," Devon said. "You need to keep this conversation tonight between you and me, understood? Do not let anyone else at the bank know about it. I do not need to get my mother involved at this time with business, and if you say anything at all to anyone at the bank, I guarantee you, she will find out about it. This will keep you out of the hot seat, so to speak, and will also keep her from having to deal with any business at this time."

Ron agreed and told Devon he would be in touch when he had information.

"One more thing, Ron," he said. "I don't think I'd give me a call from the bank. When and if you find out something, why don't you wait and call me from home? Might be better that way."

"I understand, Devon, and I'll get back with you as soon as I know something."

"There, that's done," Devon said ending his telephone call.

"You feel comfortable asking him to do this?" Britt asked.

Devon nodded. He said, "I do. Like I say, I've known Ron most of my life, and he and I do go back a long way. He can be depended on to keep this under his hat."

Britt stood to his feet and walked across the room. He put his arms around Devon. "So tell me, just how well do you know Mr. James?" His eyes twinkled as he asked the question.

"Well, let's just say I know for a fact that his feet speak the truth."

"Is it, now? And just what size shoe does he wear?"

"I would say at least a fourteen."

"That big, huh?"

"That big," Devon grinned.

Britt looked down at his feet and said, "Well, as you can see, I am no where near that size."

Devon took Britt's hands and pulled him down the hall to his bedroom. He said, "I have no complaints about the size of shoes you wear, or any thing else of yours, and I will make sure you are convinced of that before the evening is over."

"As you say, you will get no complaint from me," Britt grinned.

"I didn't think I would."

Britt stayed the night with Devon, and they spent the entire time drifting in and out of sleep. When they were awake, they would talk, hold each other, and enjoy the feeling of just being together.

At one point during the night, as they lay in bed talking, Devon said, "Britt, something has happened, and I'm not sure how to deal with it."

Britt sat up in bed and asked, "Are you all right?"

"I'm all right," he hastened to assure him. "It's just that something has changed."

"What is it, Dev?" Britt was really concerned now. "What's going on with you?"

"Britt, I feel as if I'm rambling here, so guess I will just come out and say it." Pausing briefly, Devon continued, "Britt, I love you. I realize we've said those words to each other before, but perhaps not in the sincere way I am speaking them now. I love you with all my heart."

The words were spoken so low and softly that Britt wasn't sure he had heard the man correctly. He was silent for a moment. When he spoke, he so wanted the words to be the right. He said, "You love me." It was a statement rather than a question.

"Oh, God, I've messed up, haven't I?" The agony he felt could be heard in his voice and it showed plainly on his face.

Britt took him in his arms and said, "Devon McKenzie, you have messed nothing up. Dev, I have wanted to hear you say those words. I love you so very much. I've known it for some time, but I felt like I didn't have the right to love you."

"Why the hell would you say a thing like that?" Devon demanded.

"Because I am three hours away, and I didn't think I had the right to ask you..."

Devon placed a hand over Britt's mouth. "Hush," he told him. "Be quiet." He removed his hand and kissed him forcefully on the mouth.

The kiss brought about another active love making session, and later, both satisfied, Devon looked down at Britt and grinned. "Three hours is not far at all, and you're not going to get rid of me that easy."

Britt traced the outline of Devon's jaw with his finger. "You try and leave now, and I'll haunt you for the rest of your life."

They lay quietly in each other's arms and enjoyed the pleasure of being close. Their naked bodies were joined as one. It was such a good feeling that Britt hated to break the mood, but he had something on his mind, and he felt he had to, rather, that he needed to speak his peace.

"Devon, there has been something on my mind, and I feel I need to tell you about it."

Devon sat up in bed with his back against the head board. "I'm listening," he smiled.

"Okay, I'll try and not ramble here," Britt replied. "I've written a few stories in my life, and the method I use is and always has been, research; as I search the facts and then put a story line together. Much like I've been doing here in Porterville," he added.

"I've come to realize just how much thought and effort you put into your writing. I've seen you in action," Devon reminded him.

"I know you have. Devon, I guess what I want to say is that some where in the back of my mind I have a feeling about all of this. It's one I don't like, don't want to think about; yet it's always there, constantly nagging at me." Britt placed a hand on Devon's shoulder. "Something keeps telling me that when we do get to the bottom of whatever is going on, or has been going on in Porterville, we're going to find one or both of your parents in the middle."

"You really think so?" Devon asked.

"I do," Britt said and gave him a nod. "Porterville is full of mystery. What, I'm not sure yet, but I intend on finding out just what it is. I guess what I'm trying to say, Dev, is please promise me that whatever turns up, it won't change us, the way we are, and how we feel toward each other. I need to know that won't happen."

"I'm not sure what part you may think my parents have in any of this, but I can assure you, Babe, nothing is ever going to change the way I feel toward you. I love you with all my heart."

For some reason, Britt felt something kin to fear when he thought about Elaine McKenzie being connected with anything. He would put nothing past her and in fact, expected anything of her. He could not tell Devon his thoughts, couldn't explain to him he trusted his mother with nothing, and he certainly could not tell him he felt Elaine McKenzie was the poorest excuse for a human being he had ever met.

"Britt, you have my word that whatever you uncover here in Porterville, you will have my complete support. As for my mother, I agree with you wholeheartedly; that I think she would be above nothing when it came to getting what she wanted. I've always known that's the way she is. And I repeat, nothing can happen that will ever change the way I feel about you."

"I love you," Britt said quietly.

"I love you, too. Now, what say we at least try and get a little sleep? Won't be long until the sun will be up."

Both men quickly fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms; neither one had any idea their world would soon tumble down around them.

Next: Chapter 14


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