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, countries, nor governmental areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends 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. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection.
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AUGUST apprentices 01 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"What's this, Mike?" Jean-Claude asks, standing there at the door, face-to-face with a youth, till he turns his head past the face and stares at Mike Knight.
"Your new boarder. Where do you want his things?" Mike inquires.
All this time, the eighteen year old, dark-haired teen has been standing there, waiting to be addressed for all of five seconds. When he sees no one paying attention `to him', he says, "Excuse me, please," and scrapes the side of Jean-Claude's bod, Tariq's back to the door frame, his chest sliding past. Inside he readjusts his hoodie.
"It's a hot one out there," he relays, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "But o-o-o-oh does it feel nice in here!"
"Mike, this is my place of business..." he protested against Mike's intentions, hauling a duffel bag over his shoulder, a suitcase in the other hand.
Brushing by Jean-Claude, he turned, seeing a backpackers-styled containment over one shoulder.
"Where do you want this stuff?"
Swinging around to confront Jean-Claude, Mike accidently hit the top of a `skyscraper'. "Oops!" he said, turning back.
"Mi-i-i-i-ike!" Jean-Claude yelled as he dashed for the 81st floor.
"Whew! That was a close one!" Mike exclaimed.
"Here. Let me help you," he said to Mike, alleviating the burden of the giant sack. Underestimating the weight of the duffel bag and his own muscular strength, causes Jean-Claude to fall backwards, towards the table of the small-scale town center, slated proposal for downtown New York City.
"Whoa that was a close one!" Mike says. This time he clutched the upper floors of the swaying building.
But it didn't save Jean-Claude from falling on his ass, holding the sack on his lap.
They're interrupted, "Hey, what're you doing on the floor J-C?"
Mike was in heaven, standing there and looking upon Kevin and his apprentice, Sebastien, barechested, little rivlets of water dripping down their bods. And to make matters worsen, in walks D'Artan and Gazi, fresh from the ocean.
"Mike!" Jean-Claude exclaims, pushing him towards the ledge of the table which housed the already `earthquaked' building, upon D'Artan's hauling in one of his surfboards. "Mike?"
"Huh?"
"Want to keep your eyes on the building, instead of the view of `the ocean'?"
Mike body-blocked the corner of the table, his interest more keyed in on the four beautiful hunks exchanging greetings.
"Hey D'Artan, how's it going?" Kevin greets the two at the door. "Nice board!"
Sebastien hung with Kevin and as the two gazed upon the board, his apprentice planes his hand over it, saying, "I used to ride one of these."
"You know how to surf, Seb and you didn't tell me?" Kevin questions him, slapping the back of his hand up against the side of Seb's shoulder
"You didn't ask," the twenty-one year old replied in modesty.
"Cool! You can teach me!"
D'Artan smiled, thinking back to yesterday, when Kevin replied with almost the same response. At least the excitement was there.
However, in a soft whisper, nobody but D'Artan heard Gazi say, "This is good. You can spend more time on me!"
In retrospect, he thought about last night, their romp between the sheets, D'Artan thinking, `sounds good to me!'
"This is all nice, but if Cody steps in here right now and sees his floor all wet...."
"But J-C," Kevin shoots back with, "I thought you owned the place?"
"I own it, but it's Cody who spent time drawing up the plans to replace the old floor and journeyed all the way to Jakarta to track down the specific wood he needed... I'm sure he would be quite upset upon seeing it being `dripped upon'?"
"Oops!" D'Artan said.
Upon hearing the words, Sebastien is the one to react, dropping to his knees, taking the white tee shirt from where it was partially stuck down the back of his pants and mopping up the thin puddles of sea water.
Up until now, Mike Knight kept his tongue to himself, but his eyes roamed at will. That is until he feasted on the sight of Sebastien's derry-aire moving to the rhythm of his hands doing circles on the floor with his tee shirt. "Now `that's' a sight to behold!"
"Mind your manners," Jean-Claude says, doing a `Kevin', slapping the back of his hand up against the police officer's gut.
"Hoooh!" Mike let out a belch.
Unknown to Mike or Jean-Claude, it became apparent Sebastien had to have super-sensitive hearing, turning his head to the two and commenting, "Serves ya right!" and went right back to sopping up.
"Hmm-mm," Mike said with cunningness.
"Don't let it go to your head Mike," Jean-Claude replies, seeing what Mike saw, the wink Sebastien attached to his comment. Then to Kevin, joining Sebastien on his knees, "I think that will do it you two."
In the nick of time too, Cody Finsterwalder walking in and exclaiming, "What happened to `my' floor?"
The others were respectful, except Mike who let out a whooping burst of laughter at the reaction to Sebastien still down there on his knees, swiping the last drip up.
"Calm down Cody. Nothing's happened to your' precious floor." And then to disspell any more sentiment, "So, is there a reason other than a cordial hello' as to why you two are here?" Jean-Claude figured there was more to it, than D'Artan and Gazi standing there in their speedos and tank tops.
"Matter of fact, `yes'," D'Artan says.
And as he explains away, Kevin and Sebastian begin to work their way out of the room, both nicely arguing over the reason in which they sought out Jean-Claude's attention.
"Nice, huh?" Mike says to Cody, doing what Cody is doing, helping himself to a cup of java, set up in a remote corner of the room.
And in a tiny, whiny voice, Cody says, "I hope they didn't mar my floor."
"You're such a gurl, Finster!" Mike returns.
As Cody stood there and sipped, eyes still to the precious floor, Mike sat his ass on a bar stool and enjoyed his cup, munching on a donut and then sipping the crusty mass down.
His attention returning to Mike, Cody was ready to get his digs in, saying, "By the way Mike, has Jaime ever mentioned to you I hold a black belt in karate?"
From his lanky appearance, no one would have a clue, in fact maybe think the opposite and with the manner in which he talked, it would be highly remote for a guy like Cody, but it made Mike react, saying, "You're kidding? You? A black belt in karate? I'm even surprised you wear a belt at all!"
"Well anytime you want me to prove it, you and I can step outside and..."
"Oh no," he said while chewing, "I'll take your word for it." And then he quickly changed subjects, after crumbling up a napkin and then using it, "What happened to Tarzeke? I gotta get a move on it."
"Can I give you a hand with that, J-C?" Cody asks, seeing the head honcho picking up the big surfboard, taking a few steps, setting it down, picking it up, stepping forwards, setting it down.
"I got it," macho Mike says, spitting into his hands and rubbing them together. "He-e-e-e-ey! Why is this so heavy?"
"I got it," Cody says, picking it up after Mike sets it down on end, readjusts and then effortlessly lifts.
"I should have had D'Artan take it out back before they left." And Jean-Claude placing a hand on Mike's shoulder, "So Mike here wouldn't have to go and hurt his back!"
"I didn't hurt my back!" Mike stated indignantly.
"Cody," calling ahead of him and Mike, "Mike can carry that!"
"That's okay," Mike replies, "I don't want to get the powder from the donut on it."
"Want to get the door?" Cody turns, holding the oversized, wooden board off the floor.
It's the least Mike can do, allowing Cody entry to the back lot first, Jean-Claude following.
"Oh by the way Mike, it's not a `real' surfboard."
"It's not?" Mike asks.
"A facsimile. I saw it at the shop and told D'Artan I would display it for advertisement."
"Y'know J-C, maybe I'll think about taking up some surfing. I hear hot guys look up to surfers."
Right away humor filled Jean-Claude's being. He didn't laugh, but worded his answer to reflect, "I think it would do you a lot of good Mike!"
As they stepped outside, Mike exclaims, "Oh fuck did I miss out!"
It was blazing hot out front and it was no exception for the backyard of Lomberiou, Quezada, O'Keefe and Finsterwalder.
First words out of Mike's mouth are, "It only gets better!"
There, slaving away in the hot sun, Emre wears his very professional attire, white dress shirt and tie, only the tie sits hanging over the back fence and the white shirt is parted down the middle, open to the elements, showing off the middle portion of Emre's almost smooth bod, `cept for the tiny patch of brown mid-chest and the sliver of tummy trail. Getting in on the act, or rather put to work by his older brother, Tariq kneels down as he holds the other end of the retractable ruler. His shirt came off long ago and the eighteen year old's beltless pants are hiked down a bit, exposing his ass-crack above his A&F shorts.
"You got a job for me around here, J-C?"
"Aren't you on duty Mike?"
On the sly, Mike responds, "How's a man supposed to keep his mind on his work with all these distractions?"
Jean-Claude could not dispute the fact, replying, "I know Mike."
But Mike got one last lick before departing, having to address Tariq, "Um, Tarzeke, I'm leaving now," and he didn't think of this before, but liking more of what he saw of the eighteen year old, "if you need `anything' you be sure to give me a call."
Tariq more sway towards Emre's disposition. Standing up, Mike's eyes first shot down to the sweaty little treasure trail and then hiked up Tariq's bod til his full attention was on his face, "Thank you very much for bringing me here. I hope some day maybe I can pay you back for your kindness."
"Eh, it was nothing," Mike said, but was thinking up a few ways in which Tarzeke' could start thanking him. He hated saying it, but he was on city time', "I've got to get back on duty. Oh! Here!" he whipped out a business card. "My home and cell number are on here if you ever need to get in touch with me." Same time he reached inside his pocket, Mike felt like he needed to find a place to spell relief.
"Thank you," Tariq said, sticking the card in his pocket. Emre extended his thanks too, across the courtyard.
"See ya," Mike smiled his parting greeting.
Back inside, Mike sighed a huge relief out his lungs. "It's hot out there!"
"Hot in here," Jean-Claude said, his eyes darting towards Mike's crotch.
"Yeah. Um, you got a little boy's room here?"
It was an understatement, Mike being there before. But Jean-Claude was polite in saying, "Down the hall and past the last room."
"Thanks," Mike replied, hurrying on his way.
"And Mike?"
"Yeah?" he called down the hallway.
"Make sure you shoot it all' in the toilet?" Jean-Claude laughed to himself before checking in, "Now! What am I' supposed to be doing today?"
To restart his day, Jean-Claude visited the coffee corner for the second time. Pouring out a cup, his attention drew back to the events of the last twenty minutes. He toyed with some ideas, thinking of how the duffel bag landed on him and how glad he was to have it sit there for a few minutes, especially after Mike's wisecracks. He was glad he had helped take the backpack off Mike's back and thankful he had something to hold in front of himself. All these thoughts came in spurts and his mind was somewhat on his business, so he didn't have the buildup Mike was experiencing right now. However, as he dwelled on the subject, quick flashbacks to seeing Kevin and Sebastien standing there, then Gazi and D'Artan with the surfboard, culminating with Emre's dress shirt open down the middle and his younger brother stripped from the waist up, he too started to go the way of Mike's feelings. "Oh shit!" he said, putting the cup of coffee down on the
bar-length countertop.
"What's up, hon?" It was Brendan, stepping in through the backyard door.
"Nothing much. Well not after all the excitement from..." he reported in between a fastidious smooch on the lips, "about five minutes ago."
"Emre's doing a tremendous job out there and his little brother is kind of cute too!"
"Oh really?" Jean-Claude replies, a slight smile to his lips.
"Um, I meant he's a good little worker too!"
Still a smile on his face, Jean-Claude says, "So, how are you enjoying your vacation?"
"Um, vacation somewhat. I got a call and I have to meet with some officials over at city hall in about an hour."
Looking Brendan over, sweated up shirt and gleaming skin, he says, "Then you better hightail it home and get a shower."
Standing inches apart, Brendan replies, "Wanna come?"
"I'd love to come. Right up your ass!"
Caressing each other, sweat to manicured suit, Brendan replies, "I love it when you talk dirty to me!"
"Oh really? Um, how many bags of marble chips did you say you hauled, Bren?"
"Oh. Sorry," he said to his lover, parting and wiping off `the sweat' from the front of Jean-Claude's suit.
Fussing away Brendan's hand, Jean-Claude says, "No! Leave it!"
"But..."
"It'll make me think of you all day!"
Sweetly said, it drew Brendan in for a sweet kiss.
Until, "Ah-hem!"
"Oh hi there, Mike!" Brendan says, wiping his lips off as if he just downed a sweet lemonade.
"Everybody work around here barechested?" Mike asks, especially pertaining to Brendan.
To throw Mike off course, Brendan snatches the tank top from behind his back, pulls it over his head and covers his front. "Cold in here! Brrr!" he rubs his hands together.
"Whatsamatter? J-C isn't keeping you warm?"
Touche! Jean-Claude hits back with, "Um, did your cock shrink back to it's regular proportion Mike?"
"You keep tabs on Tarzeke there, J-C. I'm holding you responsible!"
Mike didn't have to add the latter half of his statement. It was already written in the official documents Jean-Claude signed to make all this happen. In anticipation of turning eighteen, Tariq already considered himself such, even though he was less than a month away from his eighteenth birthday. Legally, he would have had to stay in foster care if Jean-Claude hadn't opened his heart and home.
"Yeah, read me my rights Mike!" he said, slapping Mike on the back as he saw him out.
Turning back to Brendan and his sipping bottle of spring water, he asks with sarcasm, "So where are we putting Tarzeek up?" Last dig on Mike, even though he wasn't there!
"I've got it all figured out!"
"And?" Brendan persists.
"Simple. Kevin and Emre are going to have to cut out so much tossing and turning in the bed!"
"Three gay guys in a bed? You've got to be kidding J-C!"
He smiled. Like everybody else, starting out with his full name, Brendan had finally succumbed to the abbreviation.
He thought on it too long and Brendan caught to his lingering, responding, "What's that look for?"
"Oh nothing," Jean-Claude says as he chooses to adhere to his lover standing there.
After guzzling the last sip, Brendan tosses the empty plastic into the bin.
Jean-Claude's arms go around him.
"Now what happens if Cody should happen to come out of his office or any one of your other colleagues for that matter?"
Adding a smile, Jean-Claude replies, "Kiss you and make them jealous!" He kisses Brendan.
"I like your office rules."
"But I've got to get busy," he breaks off his hold. "And you have to go home and take a shower!"
"Hey, what happened to this?" Like putting together a toy model, Brendan bends over and meticulously resets the skyscraper back on it's foundation.
"'Mike Knight' happened to it!"
"Good ole pistol-whippin' Mike!" Brendan says as he sets the building back to detail.
"Yeah I know what you mean," Jean-Claude recognizes the trait. "He was like drooling over Sebastien when he bent down to clean up the water with his shirt."
"Oh?" Brendan asks, standing up and leaning casually on the coffee bar.
"How old is Mike anyway?"
Contorting his lips, Brendan replies, "Oh I would venture to guess twenty-six or twenty-seven. Why?"
"You've got to get him a man."
"Me? Why me?"
"Because you're his good friend and good friends should help each other out. Besides, Mike is way too horny for his own good. You know he wants to take up surfing so he can pick up hot guys?"
"Sounds like a good reason, but somehow I don't picture Mike on a surfboard."
"I got the same reaction," Jean-Claude says as he moves over to the main desk. "What does Mike `like' to do?"
"He likes to dance..." Brendan thinks, "go to clubs... pick up guys.... sex?"
"The man needs a hobby."
"What do you suggest? Hang gliding?"
"Nah. All it would make him do is think of landing on some guy's back!"
They both got a laugh out of it and as it subsided in walks Emre and Tariq from the back lot. Unlike the manner in which they were found, Tariq's tee shirt is smoothed over his taut abs and tucked in. Emre's white dress shirt is buttoned down the middle, the tie neatly pulled up to his neck.
"May we please have some water, Mr. Lomberiou?" Tariq asks.
"You don't have to ask," Jean-Claude replies.
Brendan throws in, "And call him J-C."
"Jay-See?"
"The letters," Emre informs his brother.
"Short for Jean-Claude," Brendan ties it up in a nutshell.
And then full house again, almost, as Sebastien walks in. He wasn't as formal, his drying tee shirt hanging out the back of his pants. However, seeing the other two properly dressed, he whips it out, places the ring around his neck and tries feeding his arms back in. "Still kind of wet, I suppose," he says of the resistance.
"You shouldn't be putting a dirty shirt back on," Jean-Claude says.
Sebastien half in and half out of his tee shirt, they all watch Jean-Claude pace across the room, open a cabinet and pull out a white piece of material. Unfolded it resembles a tee shirt.
"Here. Use one of these."
Planed down over his bod, pecs outlining his chest, two little indelible nips and a slight indentation for his bellyhole, they all look at Sebastien's bod as he reads, "AIDs walkathon?"
"From last year. We didn't quite have a team, with Cody and Jaime having to be out of town. In fact I managed to get the kid next store to wear one and he and I did the walkathon. Small team," he laughed it off, even though Jean-Claude felt a little embarrased.
"Too bad they have the date on them," Sebastien says, still looking down over his chiseled-encased bod, "or else we could wear them this year. You'll be on the team too, right Brendan?"
Jean-Claude flashed a smile to Brendan when he looked at him with mouth gaping.
"Uh sure! I could put a shirt on for AIDs," Brendan replies.
"We walk too," Tariq butts in.
And then he said something in Turkish to Emre, Emre replying, "I get Gazi to walk too."
Coming out of his office, Brendan yells across the room, "What about you Codeman?"
"What about me?"
"You in on the AIDs walkathon this year?"
"Why not?"
Again, Sebastien forgot why he came in to see Jean-Claude and left. Emre and Tariq had their fill of water and as they walked out back again, off came Tariq's shirt, Emre loosening his tie. Cody grabbed his attache and headed out on assignment.
"Looks like we've got ourselves a team going," Jean-Claude observes.
Brendan remarks, "If you ask me that Sebastien is quite the ball-buster!"
"We'll see, but I rather think he would be more appropriately utilized in a suit rather than hosing down the side of a building."
"And what is Tariq going to be doing all summer to keep out of trouble?" Brendan asks.
"For now he's helping Emre and that's okay, but I think he needs to have a job outside of the firm. I'll have to scout around. As for Sebastien," Jean-Claude settles into the lobby receptionist's swivel-back chair in deep thought.
"There ya go!" Brendan exclaims.
"What?" Jean-Claude examines Brendan's face as he looks up, seeing his baby-blues upside down.
He grasps the chair rather harshly, after pounding his hands on it heavily. "How long did your receptionist say he was going to be in Europe?"
Whisking himself around and jumping out of the chair, Jean-Claude throws his arms around Brendan, awarding him, "You're a genius!" He kisses him.
"Hmm... I'll have to come up with some brilliant ideas more often!"
He was thinking of going and getting them, but the two happened to walk in the back door.
"Hey, where do I get one of those shirts?" Kevin asks.
Sebastien is bold to say, "We're taking a break and going down to the cafe." And then rethinking it, not meaning to have dictated it, "I mean if that's okay with you J-C?"
"It's okay," Kevin replies. Outside, Sebastien had mentioned J-C pulled the shirt out of a cabinet, so Kevin took to rifling through the wall of doors.
"I'll get it... I'll get it..." Jean-Claude says, rushing to Kevin's aid.
"I was just going to look there!" he says of the last cabinet.
"Here," Jean-Claude slugs him the gut with the shirt.
"XXL? What do I look like a rapper?" Kevin read the tag.
"It's all that's left." And Jean-Claude leaves him with also, "Beggars can't be choosy!"
Brendan was the first to start laughing, looking at Kevin `swimming' in the shirt.
"I think it makes you look cool," Sebastien said.
Having the shirt hiked above his abs, Kevin was ready to strip it, but lowered it, replying, "Really?"
"Want to trade?" Sebastien says, starting to hike his shirt off over his backside.
"No... no... it's cool!" Kevin responds.
"So," Jean-Claude starts in on conversation, "did you figure out what you wanted to ask me before?"
Sebastien smiles and replies, "Yes. We wanted to know what time to take lunch?"
Soon Brendan would need to take off and go home for his shower, but first he had to unload the marble chips, so took Kevin under his wing to help out. This gave Jean-Claude the opportunity to speak with Sebastien. Two and two, they parted company.
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Copyright 2009 T. Chase McPhee
This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author. If you don't adhere to this condition, you run the risk of having your pants sued off you... might lose your shirt too!
The more you stretch, the more you can fit in... 'spread' happiness! TCMcP.....