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.
ROAD TRIP: smooth wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"Well, the weeks have rolled by... time to face reality!" Standing there at the jon vanity, Anthony looks in the mirror, shaving the puffy cream off his face.
From the shower, Roberto calls out, "Less time for us."
"I hear ya, but somebody's gotta pay the bills."
Even though Anthony's got a ton of money in the bank, he's always wanted to do something worthwhile in his life. Instead of buying his way into the business world, worrying about profits, board meetings and other hassles, he got himself an education in the teaching field. Being his father designed numerous buildings at Applegate University, it was an easy shoo-in for him. However, over the last four years he has been there, he's had a lot of things added to his credit; overhauling of the workout room, modernized showering facilities and lockerrooms, and his most prized possession, the college swim team, which he organized four years ago and has brought up to competition stage, proving themselves to be a worthy asset for Applegate University.
"I'll see you around four?" Anthony says, leaving Roberto at the door, as he ventures out, on the job.
Meeting Anthony outdoors, Nicholas tosses him the car keys, shouting, "Heads up, Anthony!"
"Good morning, Nicholas. You surprised me."
"Oh?"
"I figured you would be inside taking care of Randy."
Walking up to Anthony, fixing the collar of his polo shirt, Nicholas says, "I've been getting your car out of the garage for you, for the past - what eight? - years. Besides, Randy is still in dreamland."
"Thanks."
"No sweat," Nicholas calls out, picking up the pace, running around the other side of the mansion, to gain entry through the exercise room.
Before he gets in the car, Roberto yells out the screen door, "Don't forget to look for a job for Adam!" Waving a hand, signaling he's got the message, Anthony climbs into his SUV, swings around the culdesac and heads out the driveway. Making a right, he drives for ten minutes, then turns left. After traveling for ten minutes, he spots two dots on the horizon, flanking the right side of the road. First he passes them, then steps on the brake, saying to himself, "I know it's against the rules, but..." Backing up he pushes the button, unrolling the passenger side.
"Oh, it's you, Coach Toricelli!" One of them says.
"Need a lift, Barry?"
"Sure could use one," Barry says, asking, "alright if Larry comes along too?"
"Sure. Why not?" Anthony says, rolling his eyes, smiling.
Larry tells him, "No, Coach is gonna leave me here for the next guy that passes by, doofus! Would you believe we're twins, Coach?"
"Sometimes I wonder, Larry."
Getting ahead of Barry, Larry opens the front passenger door. Barry slides the side door open and hops in.
"So, what did you all do this weekend?" Anthony asks them.
Barry jumps right in with, "Went fishing."
"Yeah," Larry replies, laughing his ass off. "Barry hooks a big one... pulls him right off the dock, into the water!"
"At least he could swim," Anthony kids.
"One good thing you've done for us, Coach," Barry says, leaning over, in between the seats.
"Hey Coach, pull over, when you get up to him," Larry says, eyes squinting, looking out the dash window.
"When I get up to who?" Anthony asks.
Larry reports, "It looks like Robbie Sinclair and if it is, he's late to class again."
Slowing down, Anthony says, "That's all I need is some professor complaining to me his student is always late, but he never fails to be late to swimming practice!"
"None of us ever are," Barry shouts from the back seat.
Without even consulting Anthony, Larry shouts out the window, "Come on, Robbie. Get in." Also shouting to the back seat area, "Get the door for him, Barry. Move over!"
Anthony giggles to himself, thinking he should charge for carpooling, as the eighteen year old hops in.
"Thanks coach!" Robbie says, a little out of breath from lugging his backpack up the side of the road.
"For which class are you late?" Anthony inquires.
"Professor Levenson's Psych I class."
"And how many times late does this make it?"
"Um," Robbie answers, gulping, "fourth time."
"Fourth time?" Anthony shouts, showing anger in his voice. "You know what happens if your late more than three times. How come Professor Levenson hasn't come around to talk to me? You know you could get suspended from the swim team?"
"Really?"
"Don't act so innocent, Sinclair. I told all you boys the score at the beginning of the semester. I told you boys, get good grades and be vigilant on attending classes. You were there, Sinclair, weren't you?"
"Yep Coach."
"So, how come you're not getting there on time, Sinclair?"
The three eighteen year olds knew Coach Toricelli was more than a bit perturbed. Larry and Barry Billington sat there, not saying a word. Robbie spoke up, speaking in his own defense, "Chores. Y'see my dad had an accident and can't do all the morning chores, so I'm elected, or else the farm goes under."
"Chores?" Anthony asks, "Like what kind of chores?"
"Milk the cows, make sure there's plenty of hay, collect eggs. We're not a big farm, but living off the land pays the bills. Right now pa's having trouble getting around. I'm all he's got, to help out."
Hearing of Robbie's unfortunate situation, Anthony cooled off, asking, "How long do you figure you're father will be off his feet?"
"Doc says a couple of weeks, but I know pa, he'll be bouncing back way before that."
"Hmm," Anthony thought, "maybe we can get you some help." Not choosing Larry, but rather Barry, Anthony asks, "Barry what do you know about milking a cow?"
"Milking a cow?" Barry questions, scratching his chin. "I milked one once. You just gotta pull on their thingees and hope the milk squirts out, right?"
Larry saw where this was going and smiled. Afterall, ever since the semester has started, he's had a crush on Robbie. This might be a way to `get to know him better'.
"I'd be glad to help. Whatever I don't know, I can learn," Larry comes out with.
"There ya go," Anthony tells Robbie. "Two willing workers to help you in the morning til your father is back on his feet."
"Thanks, but what do I do about psych class?"
"After class, go to Professor Levenson, explain your situation and conclude with the solution."
"Sounds good. Thanks Coach."
About the time Anthony was saying "You're welcome," he was turning in through the front gates of Applegate University. For the second time, nobody manned the little booth, to check out cars coming and going. Anthony complained, "With what's going on all over the country, it'd be a shame if an incident occured here at Applegate, simply because security isn't checking who comes and goes."
"Good point," Larry told him, forcing the door open. "You can drop us here. Thanks for the lift."
Barry and Robbie thanked Anthony as well.
"See ya later," Anthony told them, reminding them to be on time. But it was something he didn't have to say. Not once has any of his swim team members shown up tardy. Continuing on his way, Anthony pulled half way around a circular road, made a left, traveled a tenth of a mile, then turned into the gynasium parking lot for faculty members, pulling into his spot marked with `A. Toricelli'. Before getting out, he reached in the middle of the seats for his attache case, closing the door and touching the remote to lock up. It made a little beep. Going into the gymnasium, he came across two security guards, leaving.
"Problem?" Anthony asked. He hadn't seen these two security officers around, but Applegate was a widespread environment.
One of them said, "Pool alarm went off early this morning. We checked it out. Nothing, so we'll have the security company out here today to check it out."
While Anthony was standing there, talking to them, he thought he'd hit them up for a job for Adam. "By the way, do you know if there's any openings in security?" Coming forward, the tall blond officer recollected hearing something in the way of a part time opening. Anthony thanked them, sending them on their way. He thought part time wasn't much for a breadwinner, but at least Adam would get his foot in the door.
"Hey Coach Torricelli! Business class was cancelled, can we workout?"
Thinking to himself, Anthony gathered his dirty thoughts, eyeing Starke Richter up, thinking to himself about the twenty year old, `sure, I think we could workout', but instead gave permission, "Sure, but the pool is off limits just now."
"Oh, no problem Coach Torricelli. Ah, Jim Stoan will be around in a few minutes to spot for me. Could you...."
"I'll send him downstairs."
As Anthony watched Starke walk off, towards the lockerroom, he always wondered about Richter and Stoan, wondering about them always meeting on and off campus. At swim practice, Jim was always leaning on Starke's shoulder. Maybe he was just guessing, but he had his suspicions about them and some others on the swim team. Reporting to his office, a key in the door, who comes by, but Jim Stoan.
"Hey Coach, Jim greeted him. "Have you seen Starke?"
"He's waiting for you to spot for him, in the exercise room."
Not stopping to chat, in fact hurrying up his pace, Anthony watched the five foot, nine inch tall twenty year old swimmer rush off to the lockerroom. As he entered his room, a flock of girls, on the lacrosse team, walked past his room, on the way to the lockerroom, greeting him with `good morning'. Cordially, he offered the same greeting back, but lacked any interest in following them with his gaze. Looking across the room, more interest was stowed in his eyes of the coffeemaker. Turning towards the gadget, he removed the coffee filter.
"I take care of that, Coach!"
Walking right into the small office, one of Applegate's foreign students drifts in.
"Oh, thanks Mik."
Mik Vysotsky replies, "You know I make best coffee!"
Turning to his desk, Anthony agrees, "The best," yet he hasn't figured out how Vik turns regular coffee grinds into a deluxe cup of mellow coffee.
A mirror on his desk, utilized to groom his hair, Anthony looks over the sleek nineteen year old, his back to him. Before he's in a snag, he looks down at some paperwork. "What?" Anthony says out loud, questioning what he sees on the paper.
"You talk to me coach?" Mik says, carafe in hand, ready to fetch the water.
Not intentionally ignoring Mik, Anthony says, "They can't do this!" Immediately Anthony is on the phone with transportation.
"What is the problem, Coach?" Mik questions, as he pours water into the coffeemaker.
Still he gets no answer, except for when somebody picks up on the other end of the phone, Anthony jumps in with, "Art, what is this crap about a bus sitting eight guys?" There's a lull, then Anthony saying, "You know I have fourteen guys on the swim team?... You know? Then what's with the short bus?... All you've got? Other trips? But I had my request in two months ago!" Anthony exits the conversation, hanging up the phone abruptly with no `goodbyes'. "Now what are we gonna do?" Sitting there, tapping his pencil on the desk, Anthony realizes the six foot two, blond Russian is standing, eavesdropping over his shoulder, reading the memo.
"No problem, Coach," Mik says.
"With?"
"The short bus," Mik tells him. "Us guys can take our cars."
"Thanks for your concern, Mik, but things aren't that easy."
"No?"
"Y'see, we have to take a college bus, for insurance reasons."
"Then we stuff all of us in, like.... like sardines?"
Staring at his paper, Anthony ponders, returning, "I'll have to think about this."
Before leaving the office, Mik is pouring Anthony a cup of java. He reaches into the cube refrigerator for the milk.
"I can do that, Mik."
"Nope," Mik replies, "you have us guys to think about, Coach. I think about you."
Anthony wondered about the whole gist of Mik's concern. He wondered if Mik knew he had a lover, if the Russian student would think twice about being so cordial. At least Anthony's gaydar was picking up on some strange vibrations, where otherwise he thought of Mik as being totally straight.
"Um, you better hustle, Mik. Thanks for the coffee."
With a `you're velcome', Mik departed company, heading off for the lockerroom. For the next five minutes, swim team members bid him good morning, Anthony tossing out, "Hustle!" in lieu of a formal greeting, at which the guys would pick up their pace. At one point, Anthony looked up, catching one of the students walking by.
"Hey, Berg?"
"Yeah?" Joshua Berg stopped dead in his tracks.
"Um, have you checked lately to see if you need a shave?"
Pulling his tee shirt at the collar, the eighteen year old swimmer looks down into the space between the fabric and his bod.
Out of Josh's mouth comes, "Oops! Can one of the guys to do me?"
"Take your pick."
"Now?"
"After?"
"You got it Coach!"
Picking up the pace, Josh Berg hightailed it, bursting through the lockerroom door. Immediately he stripped off his tee shirt, showing a light covering of dark hair over his pecs and stomach. "Where's Jeff?"
One of the guys, Sean Duffy, points to the back of the lockerroom, saying, "Coach catch you again?"
"I can't help it," Josh shouts, "the fuckin' hair grows so fast!"
Proceeding to the third row of lockers, Josh reiterates, "Where's Keyser?"
As if he didn't know where to find Jeff, he stands there, in his briefs, asking, "What's up Josh?"
"You gotta shave me again. Coach's orders."
"Now?"
"After practice."
"Damn, it's been practically once a week! Why can't you be smooth like me?"
"Smooth, Jeff?" Josh questions, looking down at his navel.
"Okay, so I got a trail. Some luck. I get stuck with a bear!"
"If you're complaining about it, Keyser, I can get Coach to switch me to a different partner?"
"No way," Jeff says, "and hear it from Coach?"
With teamwork one of the highest statutes on the swim team's roster of rules and regulations, the guys know not to enter any complaints, working out any grievances they may have, among themselves. It's just been Jeff's luck he gets stuck with a guy's chest and stomach sprouting hair almost as soon as it's shaved. Jeff's grief has been trying to keep his loins in check, from sprouting a woodie while doing the deed. He knows that sooner or later it's going to be too tough to keep his secret, wondering how he's going to talk himself `out', wondering what he's going to say to Josh.
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2B continued...
Copyright 2007 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection without prior written permission, by the author.