Chapter 28 Whittaker Saves the Day
I lay there staring at my dilemma. Cum was slithering down my flat belly and pooling in my naval. The familiar odor filled my nostrils. It was the smell of sex-cess. Carefully, I managed to slip a pillow case off and used it to wipe up as best I could.
I looked over at Whittaker's long frame hidden beneath the heavy quilt and sighed. He was a beautiful guy - muscular without being distorted. He had a tight, 8 pack set of abs, an exceptionally firm ass and strong, mostly smooth legs.
I really needed to pee but I knew I'd have to have Whittaker move out of my way in order to get out of bed.
"Whittaker," I said, nudging him. "Wake up."
"Hmpff?" he grumbled.
"I gotta pee, let me out," I said.
Whittaker rolled toward me and ran his fingers through his disheveled red locks, peering through one eye, opened a mere slit. "Hold it. I'm not ready to get up yet."
"Oh sure. I'll just lay here in agony while you get another five minutes of beauty sleep," I mocked. "Or, I'll open the valve and turn this into a water bed."
"You wouldn't," Whittaker mumbled.
I carefully pulled the covers away, dragging them down to my thighs and exposing Whittaker's shoulders and chest. I rolled as easily as possible toward Whittaker and took my dick in hand. I inched closer and said, sternly, "Last chance."
Whittaker peeked out lazily then his eyes snapped open. "Okay! Okay! I'm up, I'm up!" Whittaker sprung from the bed.
I snickered as I gingerly crawled from the warm bed and made my way into the bathroom, dick still in hand. The instant I stood over the bowl, a torrent of dark urine flowed. It was such a relief, I broke into a satisfied smile and audibly sighed.
As I finished, Whittaker strode in, naked. His long dick swung methodically with each step beneath a nicely trimmed pubic patch. While I was shaking off the last drops, Whittaker released the contents of his own bladder. I watched as the stream emerged from the broad tip. The length and girth of his handsome member, frosted with a patch of blaze orange pubic hair was remarkable. I smiled in admiration.
Returning to the room, I made the bed. It was a laborious process and I had to be careful not to tweak my sore ribs. Whittaker came in and took over, instructing me to sit down and relax. I did. I watched his naked body move and bend in swift, athletic moves. His ass cheeks flexed and twisted in extraordinary ways, causing a noticeable stir in my groin. My sexual orientation was definitely reconfirmed. I hoped that whatever woman managed to snag Whittaker would appreciate the beauty of the prize she'd won. I started to dress while Whittaker did the same. I reflected on the tedium of the past months and how lonely I had been cooped up mostly in the house. Especially the past two weeks while I had been in so much pain from the beating I took from Sherriff Withers. "I'm so glad you came to visit," I admitted to Whittaker. "Thank you."
"I'm glad I came. I've thought about you a ton. I've been kinda worried about you."
"Worried?" I asked.
"Yeah. It can't be easy being stranded here, falsely accused and facing serious risk of losing your freedom for years or decades," Whittaker bluntly declared. "I thought you might need a little distraction."
"Yeah, I do for sure. But if that's your idea of cheering me up, you really suck at it." I hooked him around the neck in a playful headlock. "I am really pumped that you're here." I couldn't avoid thinking just what a beautiful distraction he was. I released him so he could finish making the bed.
He was just tucking in the bedspread against the wall and came up with a wadded up pillow case. He turned and held it up to his nose. "Hmm," he said with a lift of an eyebrow. "Did Little Shaney cum last night without me?"
I was blushing. "I have no idea what you're talking about," I said, snatching the soiled linen.
"Tcha," he scoffed. "I'm sure you don't." He snickered and walked toward the door. "I'm hungry. Let's go eat." With a nod of his head, he added, "CUM, Shaney, Cum!" He then broke into a full-fledged laughing fit and headed to the stairs.
I waited long enough to let my blush die down before following him. After a stellar breakfast that Mom had prepared for our guest, the two of us went to the family room and caught up. We both shared what had been happening to us over the past months. His was so far more exciting and interesting that I let him do most of the talking. He had really blossomed and it was fun to see. After several hours, we started running out of things to say and he got on his laptop to catch up on some work he was doing for his parents. I took a short nap. When I woke, he was in the kitchen having lunch and I, not being hungry, declined. Afterwards, we followed my dad out to his workshop where we helped him with a couple more sprayer units.
"So these things really make a big difference?" Whittaker asked.
"Sure do," Dad confirmed and then lit into a lengthy explanation of how they saved the farmers cost and also limited the amount of pesticides and fertilizers that needed to be applied because of the efficiency of his invention. Whittaker drank it in.
"You shouldn't be messing around with making one or two at a time, Mr. Steele," Whittaker stated.
"You should be mass producing these and marketing them on the internet."
"Easier said than done, young man," Dad replied. "That all takes capital and computer skills, neither of which I possess."
"What if you had some investors and a manager to handle those things and you just managed the manufacturing?" Whittaker asked.
"What if those pigs outside by the barn grew wings and started to fly?" Dad replied.
"I'm serious, Mr. Steele. This has potential. If it saves money like you say, and the ones you've already made have proven out, and if they save on fertilizer and pesticides, that makes them a green technology, and all that means there should be way to get some backing for making these. Have you got a patent?" Whittaker blurted that all out without a breath.
"No. I wouldn't know the first thing about doing something like that. You definitely think as big as the size of your."
"DAD!" I shouted. "Don't say that."
"What? Why not?"
"Because, it's, it's, it's just wrong," I responded.
"To refer to the size of his foot? Why is that wrong?" Dad asked puzzling.
Whittaker and I busted out laughing. Dad looked even more perplexed. "Never mind. My bad. I thought you were going to ..., just never mind," I answered, hoping to drop it.
Dad shook his head at us and asked Whittaker to hand him a 3/16 drill bit. Whittaker did. I wasn't sure Whittaker would know what to get, but he didn't hesitate. Whittaker never ceased to amaze me. We worked with Dad all the rest of the day and by dinnertime, we had finished a complete unit. It felt good to accomplish something. I was only limited help, but Whittaker was very helpful. He was surprisingly a decent mechanic. I had to take frequent rest breaks in the swivel chair because of my sore ribs.
That night, Whittaker couldn't stop talking about the sprayer he had helped build and what possibilities it held if only it could be mass produced. Dad just smiled at him. After dinner, a man came to the door. He looked strangely familiar to me, but I couldn't really place him. Dad welcomed him into the family room and Mom brought in coffee and left quickly, scarcely looking at anyone. That was so unlike her. Whittaker and I were excusing ourselves, but Dad said we could hang around. He introduced us as we poured ourselves a cup of coffee as well.
"This is Mr. Canton," Dad said. "He's a realtor I've hired to market the ranch."
"What?" I asked.
"Market the ranch," Dad confirmed.
"Why would you market the ranch?" I asked.
"Because we need the money," Dad said glumly.
"Because?" I asked.
"Because with all the legal expense and my income sources drying up for the most part, we need to sell and move. I have a chance to take a job as a maintenance man at the mill and we can move into a small place in town that we can rent," Dad responded matter of fact like.
"Oh no! No, no, no!" I said shaking my head emphatically. "You can't sell the ranch on my account. I won't let you. It's been in the family for generations. My brothers will hate me for this. My brothers' children and their children will hate me for this. You and Mom will end up resenting me over it too, some day. Dad you can't do this. No, I won't let you."
"First of all, Shane, it's not up to you to let me or not let me. It's my ranch, not yours. Second, don't you dare accuse your brothers or me and your mother of being so selfish that we would resent you because we had to sell this tired old ranch. Your life and freedom matter more than this place. More than anything else. No one will ever resent you."
"Dad, please. There has to be another way. I can switch lawyers and get a public defender. I'm over eighteen, you don't have any legal obligation to me. Please don't sell the ranch."
"Okay, that's enough. This is not a discussion we need to be having in front of Mr. Canton or your friend." His tone was serious and his look was stern. I knew I had to drop it, but I couldn't accept it. I stared at my coffee, fighting off tears. It hit me where I had seen Mr. Canton before. He was the mystery man in my dad's pickup truck who I'd seen getting a tour while I was out running one day. I had wondered who he was and why Dad hadn't ever explained the reason they didn't stop and talk to me.
"Yes, well, hmm." Mr. Canton opened his case and pulled out some papers. He slid them over to my father. "Given the short marketing time, I'm afraid the only two offers I could come up with are probably not what you were hoping for, but I assure you they are as good as we are going to get."
Dad took the papers and put his reading glasses on. His facial expression pulled down into a deep frown.
"This is barely half what this place is worth. And these are both from my bordering neighbors. Are they the only ones you even talked to?" Dad asked.
"Given the short time, a full scale marketing was not possible. We really didn't get much response at all from our broader marketing. I recognized that the two best possible buyers would be the owners of the adjacent parcels. The two offers are really very close. Both of them wanted to help out, given your sad circumstances," Mr. Canton said, as he cast a glance towards me and I felt the hair on the back of my neck start to stand up.
"That's really the best you think I can do?" Dad questioned.
"In the short time frame we have, yes."
"Okay," Dad said in resignation. "I suppose Tom's offer is the best one, then."
"Splendid!" Mr. Canton declared. "Sign your acceptance at the bottom and I'll get the ball rolling."
"Stop!" Whittaker said. "Is it really about half of the real value of the place, Mr. Steele?"
"I'm afraid so, but I don't have time to wait. I have to get some funds into Adam's firm right away. They've been overly patient with me already."
"Then don't sign anything until tomorrow. Give me a chance to talk with my mom and dad first. I have an idea," Whittaker continued.
"What could they do?" Dad asked.
"Just trust me, please. One day."
"One day can't hurt, I suppose," Dad relented.
"Hold on. Who are your parents, young man? Realtors, I suppose. You don't have time to start over with another realtor and besides, I have a signed exclusivity agreement with you, Mr. Steele."
"No. They're not realtors," Whittaker said. "They're lawyers."
"Lawyers? Lawyers?" Mr. Canton cried out, "If you go getting lawyers involved, I guarantee you this deal will not get done in time! Mr. Steele, I know how desperate you are and I have a solid solution for you here. Don't waste time with a couple of lawyers telling you what you already know. You need the money and you need to sell. You could lose the only two buyers you've got if you start mucking up the deal with a couple of lawyers."
"Well. One day won't hurt," Dad said. He set the pen back down and slid the papers back towards Mr. Canton.
Mr. Canton was fuming. "You're letting a young kid get in your head on this? I certainly hope you aren't making a grave mistake. If you reject the offers here, you may not get another one. Certainly not in the time frame you need to sell. You know you don't just get the money overnight. It takes a while for a sale like this to go through."
"I'm aware, Mr. Canton. One day."
Mr. Canton opened his mouth to argue again, but Dad stood up and extended his hand. When Mr. Canton took it, Dad pulled him up out of the chair. "One day, Mr. Canton. Goodbye."
Mr. Canton pulled his hand free and said, "Very well. One day. See you tomorrow."
Dad let him out and then came back in. I started to argue against selling the ranch again, but Dad shut me down completely on that. "Enough about that, Shane. Don't bring it up again."
Turning to Whittaker, he asked, "What do you have in mind, David?"
"My parents do a lot of investing in real estate. If this place is really worth almost twice what they are offering, I think they would be willing to pay more for it."
"No," Dad said. "Your parents have done enough. Your mother has done a lot of work on Shane's case already without charging us a penny. I'm not looking for charity."
"It isn't charity, Mr. Steele. It's a good investment. If they offered you more like 80% of the value, they would still be getting a good deal and you would be getting a lot more reasonable price for it. Everyone wins."
"Okay," Dad said slowly. "I suppose. But I don't want them buying it just out of pity for me. I want them to really believe it's a good deal for them."
"Absolutely. Mom wouldn't buy it out of pity any way. Trust me."
I was still not happy about selling the ranch at all. I didn't have any other solution, and I honestly didn't know how big the money problem was. I also didn't believe that my brothers wouldn't resent me over it. Neither Dad nor Adam had shared any of the cost of my defense with me. They had apparently been handling that between themselves. I wondered how much my defense was setting the family back. I was determined to ask as soon as I could get Dad alone.
Dad thanked Whittaker and went to find Mom. I suppose he needed to tell her the good news about Whittaker's parent's possibly getting more money for the ranch. I was sick to my stomach. "Dude," Whittaker said. "It'll be okay. I promise."
"Nothing is ever going to be okay again. I can't believe this shit. It just never ends." I lowered myself into the large chair and pressed my forehead against my palms.
Whittaker knelt beside me and pulled my hands free, holding them in his own. "Look at me," he insisted. Slowly, I turned to look him in the eye. "It will be okay. We've come this far. We're alive. Yeah, it sucks now, but we have a whole lifetime ahead of us. We all have to do what we have to do to get you through this. It's unfair, yeah. It sucks. But I believe the truth will win out. Have faith, dude. Have faith."
"Funny," I mumbled.
"What's funny?" Whittaker asked.
"That's the same speech I gave Steve just before I left him in the jailhouse when I got bailed out. It's easier to give that advice than it is to take it."
"I guess it would be. But take it anyway. You can't lose hope or you will do stupid things. Things that can have lasting consequences. Okay?" Whittaker advised.
"Okay. I'll try." I smiled at him. "Thanks."
"Welcome," Whittaker whispered. He leaned in and pressed his forehead to mine. "I care about you, Shane. A lot. Don't give up. Don't ever give up."
I don't know which of us started to lean into the other one first, but slowly, we rotated our heads downward until our lips met in a tender kiss. We both pulled apart and looked away. "I'm sorry," I said quickly.
"No, I'm sorry. I ..." Whittaker stammered.
"No, it's okay. I don't know why I did that. I'm in love with Steve and I intend to stay true to that love no matter how long it is before we can be together again. I know you're straight and it was wrong of me to take advantage of your kindness. It was just a vulnerable moment for me," I rambled.
Whittaker smiled understandingly and placed his thumb on my lips. He caressed them lightly and responded, "Its fine. It was a little bit of a vulnerability moment for me too. Let's just say it was a special moment between good friends, shall we?"
"Yes. Let's say that."
He stood and walked outside. I went upstairs and got ready for bed. I didn't hear him come to bed, but when I woke the next morning, he was there, as beautiful as ever, sleeping peacefully.
After breakfast, Whittaker called his mom and spent nearly an hour on the phone. Afterwards, he came out to the shop where I was helping Dad on another sprayer unit. I wasn't a lot of help, but it was good for me to feel a little bit productive.
"My mom wants to talk to you, Mr. Steele. Is now a good time?" Whittaker asked.
"Of course, I'm sure my schedule is much freer than hers would be," Dad answered.
"Mom, here is Mr. Steele," Whittaker spoke into his phone and then handed it over.
"Hello, how are you?" Dad said.
The two of them held a lengthy conversation, which Whittaker and I only heard one side of, but from the side we heard, we easily gathered that Whittaker's mom was going to be able to help us out.
"I have to thank you, David," my dad said. "Your mother has convinced me that she can fairly pay more than those two pathetic offers we were given. She has also agreed to come with your father and visit this weekend to see the property and if it meets their criteria, they will buy it."
"Sweet!" Whittaker said. I still wasn't on board with selling it at all so I acted pleased, but not elated.
"If it wasn't for you, I would have gotten fleeced," Dad commented. "She wants to meet with Mr. Canton on Friday evening. He won't be happy."
"Did she tell you the other part of my idea?" Whittaker inquired.
"She did. And that is extremely generous. Let's hope that can eventually happen," Dad answered.
"What idea is that?" I asked.
"David suggested to his mother that she include a lease back with an option to repurchase the ranch as long as they earn a fair return on their money for the time it is invested in our ranch. So instead of moving into town and renting a place, we can just stay here and rent this place from his parents. Your mom will love that idea, let me tell you," Dad said, smiling. "You know David, you are one top notch guy."
"That's fantastic! Wow! Whittaker, thanks!" I burst out.
"Hey, it just makes sense. It provides some income to my parents while they are holding it and it gives you all a chance to get it back after all this mess is cleared up and your Dad's business takes off. Did she mention anything about that?" Whittaker directed his question to my dad.
"She did. It sounds nice, but I'm not going to go counting any chickens. You're a big thinker," Dad answered.
"What about the business?" I asked. I was starting to feel like an outsider.
"Whittaker told his parents about my sprayers and they want to look into them as well. Maybe, if they think it's as promising as David here does, they would consider backing a little expansion of it. Nice to dream," Dad said wistfully.
"Wow! This is all just crazy," I said. "When are they coming out?"
"I'm picking them up from the airport around 1pm on Friday," Whittaker said.
"This is just too exciting," I said.
"It really is. I can't believe what a blessing having you here has been, David. I hope you know how much we sincerely appreciate it. And, no hard feelings if your parents don't have interest in any of it once they see this sorry, run down place. I wish I had time and money to spruce it back up a bit."
"It's great. Really. I'm sure they will want it," Whittaker responded.
"I better go share the possible good news with the wife. Cover your ears when I do or you might just lose an eardrum from her squeals of delight," Dad joked.
She did squeal and we heard it. I went over and gave Whittaker as good of a hug as my ribs would allow and thanked him again and again. He deflected my praise saying it was just the right thing to do. Whittaker spent every waking hour until Friday afternoon working on his laptop, figuring out how he could help my dad get his sprayer business going. He and Dad talked about what kind of a building would be needed to do a small scale production line. They talked about marketing ideas and what farm shows they would need to attend and where they could advertise. He researched what was needed to get a patent and had a list of about fifty questions for his parents by the time he left to go pick them up.
I tried to help out, but I really wasn't much help. Whittaker would assign me small details to research but I had the feeling it was mostly made up things just to help me feel a part of it all. Dad was getting hopeful that it might actually work out. I hoped it would too, but I also hoped Dad wouldn't have a big letdown if it didn't.
When Whittaker's BMW pulled in with his parents, I was taking a nap. The commotion woke me and I made my way downstairs. "Mom, Dad," Whittaker said as I left the last step, "this is Shane."
"Pleased to meet you, and thank you so much for all you have done for me and my defense," I said.
"It is our pleasure," his mom replied. "David explained what all you have done for your friend, Steve, and it is entirely unfair how you have been treated as a result. We just want to make sure you get justice."
I sighed, "I hope the same thing, but it's hard to keep the hope alive sometimes."
"Understandable. I'm sure it's very difficult."
"I really don't know what I would have done without Whitt..." I blushed, "I mean David. I've called him Whittaker so much, I barely remember his first name. Anyway, I don't know what would have happened without him. He literally saved my life."
"We are very proud of the fine man he has become," Whittaker's mom praised. "We should get down to business, however."
Turning to my father, she said, "Let's start with the purchase of the ranch. I've looked it over on Google Earth, so I won't need to tour it. I also have looked at comparison properties that have sold here in the area and what you have been offered is ridiculous. We are prepared to offer you, and please don't be offended as it is still below market, but significantly more than the other offers, $580,000."
Mom clasped her hands, "Oh what a relief," she said.
"That certainly sounds more reasonable," my dad responded. "Does it include a leaseback and possibly a buy back option?"
"It does," Mrs. Whittaker affirmed. They went over the agreement in great detail and I sort of tuned out. Whittaker was on the edge of his seat watching his mother do her magic. They had come to an agreement and Mom and Dad signed next to Mr. and Mrs. Whittaker's signatures and the deal was struck. I was relieved. Everyone seemed happy with the transaction and now my parents had the money to fund my defense. Then the doorbell rang. It was Mr. Canton.
After the introductions, Mrs. Whittaker took immediate charge of the conversation. "Mr. Canton and
Mr. Steele, I usually record all of my business transactions, you don't mind if we tape our conversation tonight, do you?"
My dad answered before Mr. Canton, "I don't mind, I have nothing to hide and I'm sure Mr. Canton doesn't either, right?"
"Umm, no. Of course not," he agreed.
"Then I have the consent of both of you to record it?" They both said yes after she asked permission again once the recorder was running. Then she said, "Mr. Canton, you will be pleased to know that we have struck a deal with the Steele's for the purchase of their ranch."
"I'm not at all pleased to know that. I have two bonafide offers that I have presented to Mr. Steele and I have the exclusive listing on the property so I am entitled to my commissions."
"Mr. and Mrs. Steele are under no obligation to accept such ridiculously low offers that were obtained under fraudulent pretenses."
"How dare you. Listen here bitch," Mr. Canton exploded.
"Hey! Watch your mouth in my home," my dad demanded pointing an accusing finger at Mr. Canton.
"Quite all right. I've been called worse," Whittaker's mom said brushing it aside. "It seems that you colluded with the Steele's two neighbors to take advantage of the Steele's plight and urgent need for money by providing a couple of low ball offers. After lending the money to Mr. Simmons, the neighbor with the slightly higher offer, to buy the property, you had other interested buyers ready to swoop in and buy the Steele's ranch at a price just under fair market value. You planned to pay Mr. Simmons and Mr. Jensen, the other neighbor, a little fee for their participation while you pocketed a hefty quarter million as well as 6% commission on the original sale price which would come out of the Steele's minimal proceeds." Mrs. Whittaker sat back and smiled. "So, here is a document that you are going to sign canceling your listing and disallowing any commission on any sale of this property."
She slid a legal document toward the fuming Mr. Canton. "That's bullshit. I don't know where you got such a ridiculous idea, but it's not going to work. You've made all that up. I never colluded with anyone. On such a short timetable, those were the only and best offers I could get. This is my listing and I get my commission. You can go F yourself!"
"Really, Mr. Canton, I've spent my legal career in the political arena. You are such an amateur liar. This," Mrs. Whittaker held up a stapled document, "is a copy of the loan agreement between you and Mr. Simmons. And this," she held up another typed document, "is a transcript of Mr. Simmons' admission to his part in the scheme. It seems the concept of jail time didn't interest him too much. I also have one from Mr. Jensen. This," she went on holding up another document, "is the press release I intend to provide the local press if you don't sign off your listing cancellation. Ahh, and this is my favorite one, my letter to the Montana State Board of Realty, asking for the revocation of your real estate license and investigation into your criminal, fraudulent activities. I suspect, once they start digging, they'll find lots of skeletons buried in your backyard."
Mr. Canton was bright red and veins were pulsing in his neck. He glared at Mrs. Whittaker as he took a pen from his pocket and signed the cancellation papers. "There, I signed it. I'm not saying I agree to anything you said, but I don't need this aggravation." He stood up and stormed out. Before leaving, he turned and said, "Lying Bitch!"
When he slammed the door, we all burst out laughing.
"Wow!" Whittaker said. "Go Mom!"
"Thank you so much, you are truly amazing. I see where your son gets his amazing qualities. I've never seen anything like that. Plus you got him recorded. It was really something," Dad said.
Whittaker's dad just sat back and smiled. He'd seen her in action many times and was not surprised at all.
"All I can say is that I'm glad you're on our side," I commented.
"No kidding," Billy agreed.
"This is all turning out just grand," my Mom said. "This calls for warm apple pie and ice cream to celebrate." Mom jumped up and scurried into the kitchen. Dad sent Billy in to help her. Before long, they both returned bearing the delicious dessert and glasses of cold milk. The milk was store bought so it wouldn't be so shocking to our guests. I remembered Steve's reaction to our farm fresh milk when he stayed with us over Christmas and I started getting melancholy as I thought about him. I tuned out as Dad shared the history of the ranch and our family line with the Whittakers. I'd heard it dozens of times. When Mrs. Whittaker started telling some of her stories about political deals she had struck over the years, I tuned back in. She was fascinating to listen to.
My mom asked her, "How ever did you manage to get our cheating neighbors to confess to you?"
"I didn't. I spoke with them, but of course they evaded my direct questions. Mr. Simmons revealed to me that he was getting the money by a loan from a private party and not a bank. I casually asked him if he'd already signed a loan document and he said he had. I asked if it was a long document or not and he said it was three or four pages. He also told me it was for the full amount of the purchase. I just pieced the rest of their scheme together."
"But, how did you get a copy of the agreement that you showed him?" Mom asked her.
"I don't have one. You notice I held it up like this, with the blank side showing. It's just four pages of a random document." We all laughed again.
Later that evening, we were sorting bedrooms. Whittaker's parents stayed in my room so Whittaker and I went out to the ranch hand cabin to sleep. We lit a fire and tossed the extra quilts, Mom had sent us out with, onto the beds.
"Your mom is crazy brilliant," I said to Whittaker across the room while we were in our beds.
"She is," Whittaker agreed. "That poor asshole didn't stand a chance against her."
We laughed again over it and how furious he was when he stormed off. "Thanks again for everything, dude," I said.
"Glad to, Shane."
I realized the quilt that Mom had given me was the one Steve and I had over us on our first night together in this very bed. I sat on it and slowly caressed the surface of it thinking about that special night. I wondered how he was doing. I felt a little guilty enjoying the warmth and security of being home, with a friend rather than in jail with a cellmate. I wondered if Todd was still in his cell or if they had separated them.
Remembering his tenderness towards me on that night and the soft glow of the fire in the old stove made me a little melancholy and tears formed in the corners of my eyes. I closed my eyes and caressed my stomach, chest and nipples under my shirt. I didn't even realize Whittaker had sat down next to me until he draped his long arm over my shoulder. "You okay?" he asked softly.
I looked over at him and squeaked out, "Yeah. I was just thinking about Steve. This is where we made love for the first time. I worry about him and I miss him a lot."
"I'm sure you do. I miss Calvin too."
"Did you love him?" I asked.
"I still do. He was a special guy. Rough on the outside but a huge softy underneath it all."
"Are you gay then?" I asked. "Because I thought ..., well, you know, all those stories of your exploits in high school with the ladies."
"I made all that up. The old me needed to make things up to make me feel good about myself. It only made me feel worse, though. Calvin was only my second sexual experience."
"Wow. Really?" I said in surprise. "Who was your first?"
Whittaker gave my shoulder a squeeze and looked into my eyes and smiled wryly.
"Wait. No! Me?"
He just nodded up and down and smiled.
"So are you gay?" I asked again.
Whittaker shrugged. "I'm whatever, I guess. I like girls. Seeing a hot girl and watching girl porn turns me on. But ..."
"But what?"
"But, so do hot guys. So what does that mean?"
"It either means your bisexual or hopelessly horny, I guess," I kidded.
"Yeah. One of those two." He looked at the glow of the fire and got a little melancholy himself.
"Thinking of Calvin?" I ventured.
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
We sat in silence for a while watching the embers of our glowing fire settle into a dim glow.
"What will you do if Steve gets a long sentence and you don't?" Whittaker asked.
"Wait," I said immediately. "If it takes thirty years, I'll wait for him."
"I would have expected no less of an answer from you. You are the most loyal person I have ever met. It's an admirable quality." Then Whittaker said, "I better get to my own bed so we can get to sleep. My mom will scold us if we oversleep. There's a lot to do tomorrow."
He gave my shoulder one last squeeze and pulled away. As he stood, I took his wrist and pulled him back down. "Will you stay with me tonight?" I pled.
"Yeah, sure. I'm staying all night."
"No. I mean, share my bed with me."
"Oh. Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Won't it be too small with your sore ribs and all?"
"No. I'll be okay. Please."
"Okay."
We stood and pulled back the covers. I started to pull my shirt off and winced, so Whittaker finished it for me. Next, he undid my pants and slid them off. He knelt and asked, "Socks on or off?"
"Off."
He peeled them free and then stood and removed all of his clothes as was his custom. His penis was not fully flaccid. I hooked my thumbs in my shorts and peeled them down. My penis was less flaccid than his. I slid into bed and against the wall. Whittaker crawled in next to me, lying on his back and pulled the heavy quilts over our naked flesh. I adjusted the multiple pillows until my ribs settled down, then turned to face Whittaker. "Thanks," I said.
"Welcome," he answered. I felt his hand brush over my hip and down my thigh. He stopped and held it there. I reached down and laced my fingers between his long slender fingers and we gave a mutual squeeze. I felt his hand quiver against my thigh.
"You can touch it if you want to," I offered.
Without a word, Whittaker slid his hand from my thigh onto my pulsating erection. Slowly and tenderly, he stroked me. I moved my hand over to his and took hold of his beautiful piece of manhood. It was exhilarating to hold a live penis and feel the silky skin slide beneath my touch. It was overpowering to feel another hand on my own organ and tenderly stroking me. It didn't take long before we were both breathing in ragged gasps. Whittaker threw the covers off just in time before expelling a large load onto his chest. This triggered my own reaction and I instinctively cried out, "Cum Shaney, Cum." I did. I came in volumes. We shook and quivered together, finally slowing to a gentle milking of the last drops.
Whittaker went to the bathroom and returned with two warm, moist towels and wiped me and himself clean. Afterward, he pulled the covers back up over and we kissed one time, briefly. Without a word, we wrapped our fingers together and fell asleep.
The following day was a flurry of activity as Whittaker showed his parents his ideas for the sprayer business. Dad proudly showed off his invention and explained how it worked. We even took a little field trip going out to watch it in action at one of the farms he had sold it to. The farmer was very kind to let us see it work and more than happy to go on and on about what a wonderful job it did. Dad beamed. Whittaker had been eager to get started and when I woke, he was already awake, showered, dressed and gone. I didn't mind. It avoided all the awkwardness that otherwise would have existed.
All the work led to more successful agreements and document signing, giving birth to Steele's Custom Implement Company.
"This is exciting," Mr. Whittaker said. This was his area of expertise and he had led most of the discussions rather than his wife. I could see they respected each other's realm of experience and only interjected when they had a question or wanted a clarification. "David, I hope you're up to the task of managing this little start up. I'll expect regular and detailed reports weekly," his dad said.
"I'm up to it. With Shane's help, it can't go wrong."
"My help?" I said. "How did I get drug into this thing? I don't know anything about starting a business."
"You will soon," Whittaker said. "We're gonna kick some ass and make some serious cash!"
We all laughed at his exuberance. "What?" he mocked. "We are!"
"It's too late to go looking for a place to live tonight, David. Do you think you can do that early next week?" his mom asked.
"Sure. I'll find something."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Well, I'm going to be staying here as the general manager of the new business and help get it going. So since I'll be here an extended period of time, I'll need a place to live."
"Why not live here?" I asked.
"It wouldn't be right to have him imposing on your family for such a long time. He should have his own place," Mrs. Whittaker explained.
"It's not an imposition. Is it Mom?" I blurted.
"Certainly not. We love having David stay with us. But maybe he would like his own space," she answered.
"Do you?" I asked Whittaker.
"Not necessarily, I mean, maybe, but whatever's best, I guess." He was uncomfortable. I realized maybe he didn't want to appear anxious to stay with me in front of his parents.
"What if you stayed in the ranch cabin?" I suggested. "You could have your own space and still be here. It will make your commute short."
"That's an idea," my Mom agreed. Addressing Whittaker, she added, "You can have meals with us or cook your own over there. Whatever you want."
"I'd be cool with that," Whittaker said. "What do you think, Mom?"
Mrs. Whittaker looked at her husband and he just shrugged. "I suppose, if the Steele's don't mind having you underfoot. If it becomes any sort of a problem, you can move out."
"Great!" I may have sounded a little too thrilled. I was just so glad to have someone my age around the place to hang with besides Billy, who was always busy with his own life or with Jaime. I got a few knowing smiles amongst the group.
The Whittaker's insisted on taking us out to a celebration dinner and we went to Winchester's Steakhouse on Highway 93. The food was good and the company was excellent. Mrs. Whittaker even insisted on Billy inviting Jaime to join us. The legal adults shared an expensive bottle of wine. My mom was amazed that someone would spend that much money on a single bottle of wine. Mrs. Whittaker had to insist on my mom ordering a nice meal. She was trying to be careful about the prices of everything. We didn't eat out much as a family because Mom is such a great cook and the cost was an extra we didn't usually have money for.
Mrs. Whittaker was very taken with Jaime and made an off the cuff comment to Whittaker that he needed to look for a nice girl like Jaime to date. Whittaker ignored her, but I got thinking that she was right. Whittaker needed a good young woman to get him back on track with dating and get his mind off of Calvin. I decided to talk to Billy about it.
Before heading off to bed in the ranch hand cabin, I tapped on Billy's door. "Yeah?" he called out.
"Can I come in for a minute?" I asked.
"Sure."
"Cool," I said, stepping in and closing the door behind me. "I want to talk to you about Whittaker."
"He's pretty awesome, and so are his parents," Billy said.
"Yeah. I know. I was thinking that since he's going to be living here for a while helping Dad with the business and all, that he'd probably like to find a nice girl like Jaime to date. Kinda like his mom said," I blurted.
"Yeah, he probably would," Billy agreed. "Who wouldn't?"
"Well, me, but I was just wondering if you knew where he could go here to find someone like that. Like, are there clubs or places for someone under twenty-one to go to here? It's not something I ever did or even thought of doing."
"Not really. There's hangout places for like high school kids but not really for college age guys. At least none I know of."
"Hmm, okay. Well, I thought I'd check and see," I said, starting to leave.
"I know someone who'd be perfect for him," Billy stated.
"Who?"
"Jaime's foster family has this aunt," Billy began. I cut him off.
"Geez, Billy. Whittaker's not looking for a MILF or worse, a GILF."
Billy cracked up. "She's only twenty, maybe twenty-one. She's her foster mom's youngest sister. By the way, what's a GILF?"
"The Grandma's I'd like to ...," I explained.
"Sick."
"I know. Sorry. How could we get Whittaker hooked up with foster aunt?" I asked.
"Her name's Shawna, and I could text Jaime and see if Shawna will be at church tomorrow and meet him."
"Wow, that's good service, bro!" I praised.
"I know huh? I'm the man." I waited while he texted Jaime and before long, he got a text back. "She's coming. Done and done."
"Thanks. I hope Whittaker's cool with this. Is she cute?"
"She's not model material, but she's not bad looking at all. A little below average in the bra size for my taste, is all. The cool thing is, she's kinda tall like Whittaker and has long blonde hair. She's got a killer smile," Billy informed me.
"Nice. Thanks, bro."
"Welcome. Now if you're done, shut the door on your way out. I've got a phone call scheduled," Billy told me.
"I wouldn't want to get in the way of that. See ya tomorrow. Don't stay up too late. We have church tomorrow," I said with a grin.
"Okay, Mom," Billy mocked.
When I got to the ranch hand cabin, Whittaker was already in bed, under the covers with a fire glowing in the wood stove. "Where have you been?" he asked.
"Talking with Billy," I answered.
"What about?" he asked.
"World peace. He plans to institute it when he's king of the world," I responded.
"Got it," Whittaker said.
"It was a kick ass day, wasn't it?" Whittaker asked.
"Very exciting. It's almost too good to all be true. All I need now is for Adam to call and say he got Steve's and my cases thrown out like he did Billy's," I said.
"That would make it more than a great day. That would make it a great decade!" Whittaker said. Then he asked, "Do you want me to share the bed again, or you okay tonight?"
"No. I'm fine. Thanks. Listen, Whittaker, I'm sorry about last night. I was just ..." I trailed off. "I dunno, I was just a little melancholy and vulnerable last night."
"Sorry for what?"
"You know, for doing what we did. I kind of used you. I'm sorry."
"Fuck that guilt shit. I didn't do anything I didn't want to. Look, neither of us are really committed to anyone. All we did was have some fun together in a nice bonding moment between good friends. I enjoyed it and so should you. Let the guilt crap go, dude. It isn't healthy. Trust me, I'm an expert on that topic."
"I guess you're right. It's just, well, Steve. You know?" I said.
"I don't know what you and Steve have, honestly. I don't know what all you've promised each other, but
I'm pretty sure Steve wouldn't give a flying fuck about what we did last night. For all you know, Todd and him might be keeping the guards awake at night themselves. Every guy has needs, Shane."
"Shut up! Don't say that. Don't ever say anything like that again!" I yelled.
"Whoa. Sorry. Sorry, really I am. You're right. That was the old asshole Whittaker talking. I shouldn't have said that. I'm sure they're not doing it. I don't know why I said something like that," Whittaker apologized over and over.
"Good night," I said and slid into my bed.
"That didn't end well," Whittaker lamented. "Trust me to throw a turd in the punch bowl after an otherwise fantastic day. God, I really am sorry, Shane. Honest."
"I know you are."
"Good night, then."
"Night."
##
I'm sorry for the long delay in completing this story. I have a window of opportunity to do so. Trust me when I say it was unavoidable. I will post completion of the story over the next couple of months. This will be my last story. Please forgive any errors and grammatical goofs, I am not able to use my excellent editors from before. I simply can't leave this unfinished. It's just not in my nature and has been nagging at me. I hope it speaks to you and I wish you love, joy, and happiness unbounded. Hans